■M 


%.  ^  -mO^ 


^J^ 


%^  --^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATrON 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0    ^"^  IIIM 

12.0 


I.I 


1.25 


U    III  1.6 


u" 


•» 


^%     .^^/ 


<^^J 


M 


V 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


4^ 


^^ 


;v 


o 


;\ 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  87^-4503 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CiHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Inst'tute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


^ 


^ 


1981 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


Tha  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  9re  checked  below. 


D 


□ 


D 


□ 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couteur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couvervute  endommagee 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Coiiverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pellicul6e 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


□    Coloured  maps/ 
Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Colc\<red  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relid  avec  d'autr&s  document;; 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  o\.  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

BIflnk  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
iors  d'une  restauratjon  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  dtait  possible,  ce^i  pages  n'ont 
pas  6td  film6es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl^mrntaires; 


L'lnstitut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'i!  lui  a  dt6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  wue  bibliographiquu,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peiivent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


I      I    Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaur^ds  et/ou  pellicul^es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxe< 
Pages  d^color6es,  tachet6es  ou  piqu^es 


I      I    Pages  damaged/ 

I      I    Pages  restored  and/or  tjminated/ 

I     1/  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 


□    Pagas  detached/ 
Pages  d^tachees 

0Showthrough/ 
Tran;. 


D 


n 


jparence 


□    Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Qiialit^  ii^dgale  de  I'impression 


Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 


I      I    Only  edition  available/ 


Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'e«'rata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  filmdes  d  nouveau  de  facon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


y 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'exemplaire  filmd  fut  reproduit  grSce  d  la 
g6nirosit6  de: 

Bibliothdque  nationale  du  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filTiing  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  ceproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
dc4  la  netteti  de  Texemplaire  filmd,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  fron;^  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  r>rinted 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  or  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  —^  (meaning  'CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  syrnhol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couvet  f  ure  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  filmds  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  er  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  compor^e  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'iliustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  solun  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film^s  en  commenvant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustratioR  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dornidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  --^-  signifie  'A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirety  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  Mlustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diff^rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  filmd  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup4rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1- 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

appletons' 
Uown  ant>  Country 

No.  225 


A  SOLDIER  OF  MANHATTAN 


By  THE  SAME  A  UTHOR. 

The  Sun  of  Saratoga* 

A   Romance  of   Burgcyne's  Surrender. 

latno.     Cloth,  $i.oo ;  paper,  50  cts. 


"Taken  altogether  *  The  Sun  of  Saratoga'  is  the  best 
historical  novel  of  American  origin  that  has  been-  written 
for  years,  if  not,  indeed,  ;n  a  fresh,  simple,  unpretending, 
unlabored,  manly  way,  that  we  have  ever  read." — Nevj 
York  Mail  and  Express. 

"  'The  Sun  of  Saratoga  '  is  a  modesf  story,  not  aimine 
to  do  great  things,  but  it  is  one  of  the  best  bits  of  historicsu 
fiction  that  has  appeared  for  a  long  i\m^."  —Brooklyn 
Eagle. 

"A  sprightly  and  spirited  romance,  gracefully  written 
in  a  crisp,  fresh  style  that  js  simply  delightful  to  read." — 
Philadelphia  Press. 

"■  The  incidents  are  of  a  nature  to  keep  up  the  reader's 
interest  throughout.  The  customs  and  manners  of  the 
times  are  well  described,  and  the  author  has  caught  the 
spirit  of  the  epoch  so  thoroughly  that  his  story  will  be  a 
useful  adyunct  10  historical  TCitsaa^^s."— Chicago  'Jrilnine. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


*: 


A  SOLDIER  OF 
MAN  H ATTAN 

AND   HIS   ADVENTURES   AT 
TICONDEROGA    AND   QUEBEC 


BY 


JOSEPH   A.   ALTSHELER 

AUTHOR  OF  THE  SUN  OF  SARATOGA 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

1897 


S6 


Copyright,  1897, 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I- — A   QUESTION  OF  MERIT  . 

II. — An  unsought  interview     . 

III. — A   GLIMPSE   OF  THH   GENERAL 

IV. — The  fashion  of  New  York 
v.— Enter  the  major 

VI. — A   PASSAGE   AT  ARMS 

VII.— Loudoun's  way  of  making 

VIII. — A   FEAST  and  a   storm 

IX. — The  result  of  a  trial 

;  X. — A   MORNING   SLRPRISE      . 

XI. — A   FLIGHT   AND  A   FIGHT 

XII. — In  the  general's  tent 
XIII. — The  lone  warrior 

XIV. — A   SUDDEN   encounter  . 

XV.— The  assault 
XVI.— A  prisoner  of  the  French 
XVII.— An  arrival  in  Quebec 
XVIII.— A  fight  FOR  A  kingdom 
XIX.— A  RIVAL  appears  . 
XX. — The  sound  of  the  guns 
XXI.— Out  of  the  chateau  . 
XXII.— Through  the  gate     . 

V 


war 


PAGE 
I 

lO 

19 
29 

45 

n 

73 

82 

lOI 

114 

122 

142 

149 

156 

164 

172 

183 

192 

203 

213 

224 

234 


VI 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


CHAPTER 

XXIII.— Under  the  right  flag  again  . 

XXIV. — A   COMPROMISE  .... 

XXV.— The  battle  of  Montmorency  . 
XXVI.— A  RACE  for  a  rescue  . 
XXVII.— Mlle.  de  St.  Maur's  preference 
XXVIII.— On  the  Plains  of  Abraham 
XXIX. — The  will  of  God 


TAGB 
244 

2S3 

261 

2^2 

284 
300 

314 


Pi 


^ 


A  SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A    QUESTION    OF    MERIT. 

I  WAS  Lieutenant  Edward  Charteris,  of  a  very 
good  family  in  the  city  of  New  York,  and  I  sav  no 
reason  why  I  should  take  his  insolence. 

"  There  was  Braddock,"  I  said,  putting  a  queen 
upon  the  table. 

His  eyes  were  bent  down  upon  his  cards,  and  his 
cheeks  were  too  ruddy  to  flush  much.  How  red  these 
English  are! 

"  It  was  a  cheat,"  he  said,  taking  the  trick  with  his 
king.  "  We  are  not  foxes  to  lie  hid  in  thickets  and 
forests  and  wait  there  for  victims." 

"  But  in  a  country  of  thickets  and  forests  one  must 
learn  to  do  it  nevertheless,  or  he  has  no  right  to  com- 
plain when  he  loses,"  I  said. 

The  trick  was  mine  this  time,  and  I  stacked  the 
captured  cards  neatly  before  me.  We  had  been  speak- 
ing of  Fort  William  Henry  and  the  great  disaster 
there. 

**  You  can't  talk,  gentlemen,  and  play  the  game 
too ;  we  are  not  women,"  said  Culverhouse,  who  wished 
to  prevent  a  quarrel, 

Culverhouse  was  my  friend.  Unlike  most  Eng- 
lishmen, he  did  not  seek  to  patronize  us  who  were  of 
the  colonies,  merely  because  we  were  of  the  colonies; 


1^' 


2  A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 

but  I  had  no  mind  to  be  put  down,  and  I  kept  my  at- 
tention fixed  upon  Spencer. 

"  Promise  is  not  performance,"  he  said,  leading 
with  an  ace.  "  You  Americans  criticise  us  much,  but 
what  have  you  in  your  turn  done  against  the  French?  " 

**  There  was  Dieskau's  defeat  at  Lake  George,  our 
one  victory  of  the  war — a  victory  that  saved  Albany 
and  nobody  knows  what  else,"  I  said,  following  his 
lead. 

*'  Sir  William  Johnson  won  that,"  he  said,  curling 
his  upper  lip  a  little.  '*  An  Englishman  by  birth,  I 
believe." 

"  An  Irishman,"  I  said,  "  and  he  spent  the  day  in 
his  tent.  His  soldiers,  who  were  Americans,  won  the 
battle.    They  did  the  fighting,  not  Sir  William." 

The  loungers  in  the  coffeehouse  had  been  h'stening 
attentively.     One  of  them  hummed: 

"  Their  Dieskau  we  from  them  detain, 
While  Canada  aloud  complains 
And  counts  the  numbers  of  their  slain 
And  mai<es  a  dire  complaint." 

It  was  the  beginning  of  a  bad  verse — not  much 
rhyme  in  it  that  I  could  ever  see — but  it  was  very 
popular  in  our  time,  and  it  fit  the  case. 

"Attend  to  the  game,  gentlemen!"  said  Graham, 
the  Scotchman,  who  made  the  fourth  of  our  party,  a 
hare-brained  fellow,  but,  like  Culverhouse,  not  want- 
ing a  quarrel  just  then.  "  You  are  lagging  in  your 
play." 

The  loungers  in  the  cofTeehouse  had  formed  a 
circle  around  us  at  the  sound  of  our  words,  which  be- 
tokened a  possible  quarrel,  and  loungers  love  a  quarrel 
in  which  they  are  not  concerned.  I  was  sorry  for  the 
moment  I  had  come  into  the  place,  though  I  had  not 
expected  such  an  issue  of  it.     Mynheer  Steenwyck, 


m<. 


A   QUESTION    OF   MERIT. 


our  host,  looked  anxious,  as  if  he  feared  for  the  fate  of 
his  Ixntles  and  'ankards,  and  rubbed  liis  fat  Dutch  chin 
uneasily.  Through  the  nindovv  which  faced  nie  I 
could  see  the  merchants  of  Hanover  Square,  many 
with  their  coats  off,  busy  amonpf  their  bales  and  pack- 
apes,  which  haK  blocked  the  street.  Perhaps,  after 
all,  it  is  they  and  not  the  geneials  who  make  a  coun- 
try great. 

•*  Lieutenant  Charteris  has  accused  the  English 
soldiers,"  said  Spencer,  as  if  justifying  himself  to  his 
brother  officers. 

"  Lieutenant  Spencer  first  accused  the  American 
soldiers,"  I  said. 

"  And  yet  the  English  have  come  over  here  to  de- 
fend the  Americans,"  said  Spencer,  raising  his  voice 
a  little. 

"  May  Heaven  defend  us  from  our  defenders,  so  I 
have  heard  Mr.  Oliver  de  Lancey  say  when  they  tried 
to  billet  the  soldiers  upon  him,"  I  replied. 

Spencer's  eyes  sparkled  with  anger,  and  he  was 
preparing  to  make  a  fierce  reply;  but  Culverhouse, 
still  in  the  role  of  peacemaker,  spoke  first. 

*'  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said,  "  that  both  English 
and  Americans  who  serve  the  same  King  should  be 
the  best  of  friends  and  allies.  Of  a  certainty  the  French 
have  given  enough  for  both  to  do  so  far.  You  are  a 
soldier  of  the  King,  Lieutenant  Spencer,  and  so  are 
you,  Lieutenant  Charteris." 

Whether  his  words  would  have  stopped  us  I  do' not 
know,  but  at  that  moment  I  heard  cries  outside.  I 
had  heard  a  hum  or  distant  murmur  before,  but  paid 
no  attention,  thinking  it  was  the  ordinary  noise  of  a 
busy  town  such  as  ours.  Now  it  was  much  nearer  and 
louder. 

"  I  think  it  is  a  street  affray,  and  perhaps  a  serious 
one,"  cried  Culverhouse,  seizing  the  opportunity  to 


)    m 

I 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I 


t 


put  1  stop  to  our  affair.    '*  Come,  gentlemen,  we  will 
see  what  it  is!  " 

He  grasped  me  by  the  arm  and  half  dragged  me  to 
the  door.  Any  suspicion  of  my  courage  was  saved,  as 
the  others,  incited  by  curiosity,  came  too.  The  loun- 
gers crowded  after  us. 

A  crowd  of  men  and  boys,  many  of  villainous  look, 
had  gathered  about  a  man  and  a  woman  in  the  street 
and  were  shouting  at  them  curses  and  Oiher  abuse  as 
bad. 

"  Stone  the  French  spy!    Kill  him!  *'  they  cried. 

I  could  see  over  the  crowd  the  head  of  the  man 
whom  they  threatened.  A  face  almost  as  dark  as  that 
of  an  Indian,  but  the  darkness  of  weather,  and  not  of 
nature,  a  fierce,  curved  nose,  blue  eyes,  ai^d  very  bla'"k 
hair — the  whole  a  leonine  countenance.  He  looked 
disdainfully  at  the  crowd,  and  said  something  in  the 
French  tongue.  Though  I  understood  the  language, 
T  did  not  catch  the  words.  The  men  and  boys  around 
hnr.  continued  their  abuse.  I  understood  the  trouble 
at  once.  vV^e  were  very  bitter  then  against  the  French, 
who,  with  their  Indian  allies,  had  committed  many 
atrocities  upon  our  border  people. 

A  boy  stooped,  picked  up  a  stone,  ''nd  made  ready 
to  hurl  it  at  the  Frenchman.  I  sprang  into  the  street  and 
knocked  the  missile  from  his  hand.  Then  I  drew  my 
sVi^ord  and  ordered  the  mob  to  scatter,  illustrating  the 
command  with  several  flourishes  of  the  weapon.  Un- 
armed men  do  not  like  the  naked  edge  of  a  sword,  and 
they  fell  back  to  a  respectful  distance,  giving  us  a  full 
view  of  the  Frenchman  and  his  companioii,  whom  I 
guessed  at  once  to  be  hi  j  daughter.  She  had  the  same 
black  hair  and  blue  eyes,  which  is  in  woman,  I  think, 
a  combination  as  striking  and  beautiful  as  it  is  rare. 
But  where  his  face  was  as  dark  as  leather,  hers  was 
as  fair  as  the  white  rose. 


A   QUESTION    OF    MERIT. 


While  I  was  looking  at  her,  the  Frenchman  was 
[thanking  me,  though  with  much  dignity. 

I  introduced  myself  briefi>  in  Hie  French  lan- 
guage as  lieutenant  Edward  Charteris,  of  the  King's 
[army. 

"  I  am  Raymond  de  St.  Maur,  of  Quebec,"  he  said, 
I"  and  this  is  my  daughter.  Mile.  Louise  de  St.  Maur." 

I  bowed,  and  she  returned  my  bow  in  much  the 

[same  manner  as  her  father.    The  incident  had  brought 

la  very  bright  flush  in'.o  her  cheeks,  but  I  could  not  say 

th'9i  she  showed  fright.     I  said  with  the  politeness  of 

our  times  *hat  it  was  a  happiness  and  honor  for  me  to 

have  served  them  so  opportunely, 

"  Is  it  one  of  the  chief  duties  of  your  officers  to 
protect  guests  from  your  own  citizens?  "  asked  M.  de 
St.  Maur,  not  at  all  moved  by  my  compliment. 

I  did  not  reply  directly,  but  introduced  Culver- 
house  and  the  others,  who  had  followed  up  my  attack 
upon  the  mob.  We  offered  to  escort  them  to  their 
house  or  wherever  they  might  be  going. 

"  We  are  the  guests  of  Mr.  Plennedy,  your  towns- 
man," said  Mile,  de  St.  Maur,  speaking  for  her  father, 
and  showing  more  graciousness  than  he,  "  and  will 
thank  you  to  protect  us  on  our  way  there." 

M.  de  St.  Maur,  though  yet  very  haughty  of  coun- 
tenance, did  not  retuse  the  oflfered  escort.  The  mob 
had  gone  farther  down  the  square,  but  had  not  dis- 
appeared.   ' 

I  led  the  way.  I  knew  the  Kennedy  mansion  very 
well,  and  likewise  its  owner,  Archibald  Kennedy,  who, 
as  all  the  world  has  heard,  married  Ann,  Robert  Watt's 
handsome  daughter,  and  became  the  Earl  of  Cassilis. 
Noticing  that  the  old  man  and  the  girl  looked  around 
them  with  great  curiosity,  I  began  to  point  out  the 
buildings  of  interest  and  note,  in  which  our  city 
abounds,  if  I  do  say  it  myself,  and  led  them  a  some- 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


1 


what  devious  way  that  I  might  prolong-  the  journey, 
for  I  will  admit  that  this  French  girl  with  the  blue  eyes 
and  black  hair  attracted  me  much.  ^?^ 

I  took  thein  by  the  Royal  Exchange,  a  spacious 
and  noble  structure  completed  but  two  years  before, 
and  showed  them  the  merchants  and  factors  passing  in 
such  numbers  and  importance  through  the  arcades 
that  one  might  think  it  was  London  itself,  so  great 
had  grown  the  trade  of  our  port. 

I  had  friends  there — my  own  family  is  not  so  bad 
— and  an  attendant  took  us  up  to  the  noble  Long 
Room,  where  the  great  dinners  and  entertainments 
are  given.  Then  we  passed  out  under  the  arcades  and 
again  through  the  busy  press  of  merchants.  I  de- 
scribed some  of  them,  and  told  to  what  an  amazing 
extent  their  operations  had  grown,  how  they  bought 
furs  and  skins  from  the  most  distant  Indians,  even 
from  those  around  the  farthest  of  the  Great  Lakes, 
how  they  carried  on  a  fine  trade  with  the  West  Indies, 
and  what  a  traffic  passed  between  us  and  England, 
and  how  we  had  even  begun  to  build  ships. 

*'  Can  you  show  such  merchants  as  those  in  Que- 
bec? "  I  asked  of  M.  de  St.  Maur,  making  no  effort 
to  conceal  my  pride  in  our  city's  opulence. 

"  No,  but  we  can  show  better  soldiers,"  he  replied 
with  some  dryness,  as  in  truth  he  had  a  right  to  do, 
since  the  French,  on  the  whole,  had  been  beating  us 
most  lamentably. 

But  he  h?d  no  criticism  to  make  upon  the  noble 
spire  of  St.  George's  Chapel,  which,  I  hear,  will  com- 
pare very  favorably  witli  the  great  spires  of  Europe, 
and  of  which  we  are  justly  proud.  Moreover,  I  long 
enjoyed  the  acquaintance  of  its  rector,  that  distin- 
guished and  pious  man,  the  Rev.  Henry  Barclay, 
who  married  the  daughter  of  Anthony  Rutgers. 

I  also  showed  them  our  first  engine  house,  which 


A   QUESTION    OF   MERIT,      v  .         f 

was  thought  to  be  a  marvel  in  its  way,  very  few  people 
[having  dreamed  that  such  an  ingenious  contrivance  for 
[putting  out  destructive  fires  was  possible.  It  was  near 
[twenty  years  old  then,  and  stood  in  Broad  Street,  next 
to  the  watchhouse.  I  think  the  seigneur  was  some- 
what puzzled  by  the  engines,  as,  in  fact,  I  was  a  bit 
[myself,  but  neither  of  us  said  so. 

I  showed  them  our  notable  market  just  above  the 
ferry  across  tne  Hudson,  where  the  people  came  over 
from  the  Jerseys,  and  where  the  line  of  wagons  filled 
with  the  produce  of  the  farms  was  sometimes  a  full 
eighth  of  a  mile  in  length. 

I  succeeded  so  well  in  monopolizing  the  conversa- 
tion of  Mile,  de  St.  Maur,  who  showed  a  pretty 
wit  and  much  knowledge,  that  Culverhouse  and  the 
otiiers  began  to  frown  at  me  and  seek  my  place.  But 
1  iield  my  own,  and  continued  to  talk  to  mademoiselle, 
pointing  out  this  place  and  that,  until  we  reached  the 
house  of  Mr.  Kennedy,  a  noble  mansion  on  Broad- 
way, very  wide  and  handsome  of  front,  with  a  splendid 
carved  doorway  in  the  center. 

The  seigneur,  who  I  perceived  had  learned  the 
stoicism  of  the  Indians,  would  not  allow  himself  to 
be  impressed  by  anything,  or  at  least  he  would  not 
permit  the  appearance  of  it.  He  looked  very  closely 
al)out  him,  but  there  was  no  expression  upon  his 
strong,  brov*rn  face.  But  when  they  walked  up  the 
stoop  of  Mr.  Kennedy's  house,  and  he  turned  to  dis- 
miss us,  he  thanked  us  again  with  that  fine,  large 
courtesy  which  we  associate  with  the  great  Frerch 
seigneur. 

"  A  Norman,  I  think,"  said  Culverhouse  as  we 
walked  away  together,  Spencer  and  Graham  having 
bid  us  adieu  and  gone  in  another  direction. 

I  thought  so  too.  It  seemed  fitting  to  me  that  his 
great  stature  and  eagle  face  should  belong  to  the  race 


V, 


8 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


li^ 


which  took  England  and  gave  it  the  blood  of  which  it 
boasts  the  loudest.  Which  stock  on  the  French  side, 
I  may  add,  also  has  given  us  the  most  trouble. 

"  What  is  he,  and  what  is  he  doing  here?  "  I  asked 
of  Culverhouse,  who  knew  the  gossip  of  the  town, 
while  I  had  arrived  but  recently  from  duty  at  Albany. 

"  He  is  one  of  the  great  seigneurs  of  Canada,"  re- 
plied Culverhouse,  ''  and  he  has  come  here  on  behalf 
of  Montcalm  to  treat  with  Loudoun  for  an  exchange  of 
prisoners.  The  earl  having  finished  his  cabbage  plant- 
ing at  Halifax,  may  now  be  able  to  attend  somewhat 
to  the  war." 

Culverhouse  spoke  with  bitterness.  Never  was 
there  a  greater  laggard  than  our  commander  in  chief, 
and  it  was  as  galling  to  the  English  officers,  his  breth- 
ren, as  it  was  to  us,  whom  he  said  he  came  to  protect. 
The  earl  was  but  a  day  back  from  Halifax,  where  he 
had  nobly  earned  the  title  of  cabbage  planter,  and  we 
were  wondering  what  garden  he  would  cultivate  next. 
Coming  back  from  Halifax,  when  off  the  Massachu- 
setts shore,  he  had  received  a  message  from  Governor 
Shirley,  sent  out  in  a  small  boat,  giving  the  dreadfal 
news  from  William  Henry.  So  he  had  arrived  in  New 
York,  telling,  ere  his  foot  had  scarce  touched  the  land- 
ing, of  the  terrible  things  he  was  going  to  have  done 
to  M.  Montcalm,  how  he  had  sent  a  message  to  Webb 
to  chase  the  impudent  Frenchman  back  to  Canada, 
and  how  he  was  expecting  even  then  to  hear  that  his 
general  had  destroyed  the  French  army. 

After  Culverhouse's  little  outburst  we  were  silent, 
thinking  of  our  campaign,  which  had  little  cheer  for 
us  despite  the  earl's  magnificent  promises,  and  when 
Culverhouse  left  me  I  went  to  my  lodgings,  where 
my  thoughts  ranged  from  the  war  to  Mile,  de  St. 
Maur's  blue  eyes  and  Marion  Arthur's  brown  ones, 
and  then  back  to  the  blue.    1  was  wondering  that  very 


!  I 
\  \ 
\      \ 


A   QUESTION    OF    MERIT. 


morning  if  I  were  about  to  fall  in  love  with  Marion 
Arthur.  Never  having  been  in  love  before,  I  could 
not  be  sure.  I  had  often  noted  the  symptoms  in  others, 
but  I  have  also  observed  that  a  doctor  who  may  be 
very  skilled  in  the  diseases  of  others  knows  little  about 
his  own.  But  Marion  and  I  had  been  comrades  in 
childhood,  for  she  was  my  cousin,  though  three  times 
removed. 


*^ 


i 


I 


I 


1; 


CHAPTER  II. 


AN    UNSOUGHT    INTERVIEW. 


I  WAS  in  the  midst  of  such  thoughts  and  surmises 
when  John  Smoot  came  and  told  me  that  his  master, 
Mr.  Arthur,  wished  to  see  me.  John's  manner  was 
darkly  important,  and  I  guessed  that  the  business 
which  Mr.  Arthur  wished  to  have  with  me  would  not 
be  of  a  very  soothing  nature.  Some  strain  in  our  rela- 
tions had  appeared  long  since,  and  it  was  increased  by 
his  suspicion  that  I  sought  Marion  for  a  wife — a  sus- 
picion and  a  dissent  that  were  very  far  from  keeping 
me  from  her.  Even  before  that  morning  I  would  stop 
and  wonder  if  in  truth  I  were  about  to  fall  in  love  with 
her,  and  then  I  would  cease  to  study  the  problem  and 
leave  its  solution  to  the  future.  But  I  was  compelled 
to  admit  that  she  was  very  fair.  There  was  no  girl  of 
the  de  Lanceys,  or  the  de  Peysters,  or  the  Living- 
stons, or  the  Philipses,  or  the  Kennedys,  or  the  Col- 
dens,  or  of  all  the  boasted  beauties  of  our  town,  who 
could  surpass  her. 

Moreover,  it  was  a  matter  of  common  repute  in 
New  York  that  Mr.  Arthur  looked  for  something 
beyond  the  colonies  for  his  daughter.  His  father  had 
been  born  in  the  old  country,  and  he  had  been  sent 
there  himself  to  be  educated  and  to  receive  the  Ent;- 
lish  stamp,  his  aptness  at  the  learning  being  so  great 
that  he  had  ever  remained  a  mighty  stickler  for  the 
glory  and  the  grandeur  and  the  ways  of  England.    He 


i 


lO 


AN    UNSOUGHT    INTERVIEW. 


II 


affected  sometimes  to  cheapen  bis  own  country  and  the 
people  who  were  his  countrymen,  which  caused  many 
ill  remarks  to  be  made  about  him,  for  we  had  begun 
to  raise  our  heads  in  America.  There  were  so  many 
officers  of  high  rank  and  noble  birth  coming  over 
then  from  Britain  to  engage  in  the  great  war  with  the 
French  that  I  was  quite  sure  Mr.  Arthur  would  seek  to 
make  an  engagement  between  his  daughter  and  one  of 
them.  He  placed  high  value  upon  rank,  and  his  wealth 
was  sufficient  to  prepare  the  way  for  an  alliance  of 
that  kind.  That  he  had  some  such  thought  in  his  mind 
when  he  sent  for  me  I  did  not  doubt. 

Bidding  John  to  tell  him  that  I  would  be  there 
speedily,  I  prepared  for  the  interview,  arranging  my 
toilet  with  great  care,  which  I  hold  always  to  be  the 
duty  of  a  gentleman. 

I  wore  my  new  uniform  of  the  Royal  Americans, 
which  was  a  very  pretty  affair,  and  confidence  in  one's 
clothes  imparts  great  strength  to  the  backbone.  So  I 
went  on,  walking  with  a  martial  stride,  and  swinging 
my  sword  until  I  made  it  jingle  gallantly  in  its  scab- 
bard. 

The  front  part  of  Mr.  Arthur's  establishment  was 
used  as  a  warehouse.  There  was  a  great  muck  of 
boxes  and  barrels  about,  and  a  dozen  stout  fellows 
were  at  work  among  them.  It  was  said  that  Mr.  Ar- 
thur, when  the  times  were  more  given  to  peace,  sent 
every  year  a  rich  store  of  goods  into  the  Spanish  and 
French  West  India  Islands,  contrary  to  the  laws  and 
regulations  of  their  Catholic  Majesties,  the  august  sov- 
ereigns of  Spain  and  France.  But  that  was  not  a 
matter  about  which  I  bothered  myself,  nor  in  truth 
did  any  one  else,  for  no  merchant  in  the  town  was 
held  to  be  a  more  respectable  man  than  Mr.  Arthur, 
who  had  acquired  in  the  course  of  many  years  a  great 
fortune  and  a  most  acrid  port-wine  temper. 


\^ 


/' 


f 


II 


w 


# 


!2 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I  asked  for  Mr.  Arthur,  and  one  of  the  fellows,  with 
undue  curtness,  I  thought,  when  my  martial  appear- 
ance is  considered,  directed  me  to  the  office  in  the 
rear.  ^      . 

Mr.  Arthur  was  writing  at  his  desk.  Two  candles, 
burning  directly  in  front  of  him,  for  the  twilight  comes 
early  in  our  latitudes,  heightened  the  ruddy  tints  of 
his  face  and  deepened  the  lines  about  his  mouth.  Re- 
membering that  if  he  had  anything  disagreeable  to 
say  it  might  be  well  to  let  him  know  that  I  was  pre- 
pared, I  jingled  my  sword  again.  The  sound  aroused 
him  from  his  task,  as  well  it  might,  for  it  was  a  most 
military  clatter.  He  turned  around  and  looked  at  me 
in  a  very  critical  manner.  I  kept  my  hand  upon  my 
sword  and  expanded  my  chest  somewhat,  but  Mr.  Ar- 
thur did  not  seem  to  be  very  much  impressed. 

"Ah!  it  is  Master  Edward  Charteris,  I  believe," 
he  said  in  an  exceedingly  dry  tone. 
•     **  It  is,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  am  now  a  lieutenant  in 
the  army  of  his  Britannic  Majesty." 

As  I  said  this  I  jingled  my  sword  for  the  third  time 
and  threw  my  shoulders  very  far  back,  in  order  to  keep 
myself  from  looking  that  degree  of  littleness  which  I 
felt.  I  liked  not  his  manner  at  all.  It  was  patronizing, 
which  I  resented,  for  our  branch  of  the  family,  though 
not  as  well  sugared  with  riches  as  his,  was  as  good 
and  of  equal  repute  m  all  the  country. 

But  my  bearing,  which  I  thought  Marion — and 
the  new  French  girl,  too,  for  that  matter — would  have 
admired,  seemed  to  have  no  effect  upon  this  crusty  old 
merchant.  Accordingly,  I  stood  upon  my  dignity, 
and  waited  in  silence  to  hear  what  he  might  have  to 
say. 

"  I  infei  red  from  your  apparel,"  he  said  in  a  tone 
of  some  satire,  "  that  you  had  become  an  officer  in 
the  service  of  our  King.    Be  sure  that  you  wear  worthi- 


AN    UNSOUGHT    INTERVIEW. 


13 


]y  the  livery  of  his  Majesty,  our  most  gracious  sover- 
eign." 

"  I  do  not  need  that  advice,"  I  said  with  a  httle 
heat.  I  had  heard  so  much  of  our  most  gracious  sov- 
ereign recently  that  I  was  growing  tired  of  him  and  his 
graciousness. 

"  It  is  just  as  well  to  give  it,"  he  replied.  "  All 
young  men  are  the  better  for  good  counsel,  though 
they  may  not  relish  it  in  th^  idling." 

I  felt  an  increase  of  resentment.  But  I  was  under 
some  obligations  to  him.  He  was  my  nearest  relative 
left  alive,  and  perhaps  I  owed  a  little  to  his  care,  though 
I  doubted  not,  knowing  his  nature,  that  he  had  made 
a  good  profit  out  of  it.    So  I  said  nothing. 

"  I  sent  for  you,"  he  said,  "  because  I  have  heard 
something  about  you  to-day." 

"  Nothing  to  my  discredit,  I  hope,"  I  said  lightly. 

"  Something  very  much  to  your  discredit,"  he  said 
with  great  gravity  of  manner.  "  I  hear  that  you  have 
jjcen  insulting  the  of!icers  of  the  King  in  a  coffeehouse, 
and  even  fastening  a  quarrel  upon  them.  I  hear  also 
that  you  have  spoken  in  the  most  disloyal  manner  of 
our  noble  sovereign  and  the  generals  whom  he  has 
sent  over  to  protect  us  from  the  French  and  their 
allies." 

I  haven't  much  reverence  for  kings;  I  have  never 
been  able  to  discover  in  all  my  reading  of  history  that 
they  deserve  it.  I  cared  little,  therefore,  for  his  charge 
of  disloyalty,  but  I  felt  the  flush  of  anger  when  he 
accused  me  of  forcing  a  quarrel  upon  the  British  of- 
ficers when  I  believed  that  I  had  been  in  the  right.  I 
said  as  much,  telling  him  that  some  one  had  brought 
him  a  false  report.  I  added,  moreover,  that  I  would 
not  be  patronized  by  any  Englishman,  nor  did  I  think 
that  any  one  in  the  colonies  should  so  humble  him- 
self. 


H 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


**  Ah!  "  he  said,  speaking  more  slowly  than  before; 
"  I  have  heard  much  lately  about  the  fine  airs  the  peo- 
ple in  the  colonies  are  giving  themselves.  It  seems 
that  what  I  have  heard  is  true." 

"  You  are  one  of  us  yourself,"  I  replied. 

"  By  the  accident  of  birth,  yes,"  he  said,  and  his 
heightened  tones  showed  that  my  shaft  had  touched 
a  tender  spot,  "  but  in  spirit,  no.  I  have  always  ac- 
counted myself  an  Englishman  born  on  a  foreign 
shore,  and  I  shall  return  to  the  land  which  nourished 
my  ancestors.  I  intend  that  my  daughter  shall  marry 
there." 

I  had  nothing  to  say  to  these  declarations,  which 
he  made  with  some  pomposity  of  manner.  His  allu- 
sion to  his  daughter  and  my  silence  seemed  to  bring 
him  back  to  the  main  subject  which  he  had  in  mind 
when  he  sent  for  me. 

"  I  wished  to  speak  to  you  of  two  things,  Lieutenant 
Charteris,"  he  said;  "one  is  your  deportment  toward 
the  officers  from  England,  which  is  offensive  to  me, 
and  the  other  is  in  regard  to  my  daughter.  You  and 
she  of  necessity  have  been  thrown  much  together, 
and  the  liking  between  you  must  go  no  further.  As  1 
said,  I  shall  make  a  home  in  England,  and  I  intend 
that  my  daughter  shall  marry  there.  I  warn  you  for 
your  own  benefit." 

This  was  plain  speaking  to  a  certainty.  I  was 
not  aware,  as  I  have  said,  that  I  was  in  love  with 
Marion,  though  there  had  been  some  little  gossip 
in  the  town  that  it  would  be  a  fitting  match.  I 
scarce  knew  whether  to  be  angry  or  amused.  I 
resolved  to  draw  him  out,  and  see  what  further  he 
had  to  say. 

"  Then  you  object  to  me  because  I  am  not  an  Eng- 
lishman?" I  said. 

"  That  is  one  among  my  several  reasons." 


AN    UNSOUGHT    INTERVIEW. 


15 


"  At  least,  T  shall  never  try  to  become  an  English- 

I- 

man." 

"  Let  us  be  grateful  that  we  are  spared  that  much 

wasted  effort." 

"  Nor  would  I  become  one  if  I  could.  I  shall  re- 
main true  to  my  own  country." 

**  Your  high-flown  sentiments  sound  very  well  in 
tlie  mouth  of  a  young  man,  but  we  can  dispense  with 
them  at  present." 

"  You  are  bent  upon  having  Marion  marry  among 
the  English?"  I  asked. 

"  And  what  if  I  am?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"  She  might  prefer  one  of  her  countrymen,"  I 
said. 

"  I  trust  that  she  has  judgment  and  discretion,"  he 
replied. 

I  would  have  been  very  humble  indeed  not  to  be 
angered  by  his  sneers  at  me  and  my  countrymen,  and 
as  I  turned  to  leave  I  could  not  refrain  from  discharg- 
ing an  arrow  at  him. 

"  Do  not  forget  one  thing,  Mr.  Arthur,"  I  said, 
"  though  you  may  call  yourself  an  Englishman,  the 
English  themselves  will  never  call  yc^  such." 

His  countenance  fell  a  little,  but  in  a  moment  he 
said,  without  any  change  of  tone: 

"  I  bid  you  good  day.  Master  Charteris.  I  wish 
you  a  noble  career  in  the  King's  service." 

I  made  no  reply,  but  left  full  of  wrath  at  his  high 
and  haughty  treatment  of  me,  as  I  believe  I  had  a  right ' 
to  be.  I  was  thinking  angrily  about  this,  and  such 
was  my  state  of  mind  that  I  failed  to  notice  where  I 
was  walking  after  I  reached  the  street,  and  nearly  ran 
over  one  of  our  townsmen.  He  brought  me  to  myself 
with  a  jerk,  and  peered  into  my  face  by  the  light  of 
one  of  the  street  lanterns  that  hung  near. 

"It's   Master   Edward   Charteris,   eh?"   he   said; 


'  »1 


i6 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


**  prowling  about  and  trying  to  run  down  decent  citi- 
zens in  the  street!  I  took  you  at  first,  with  your  fine 
uniform  and  clanking  sword,  to  be  one  of  those  young 
Hotspurs  from  over  seas,  who  talk  so  much  and  do 
so  little.  But  perhaps  such  as  you  have  been  cor- 
rupted by  them  with  their  swaggering  airs  and  loud 
oaths." 

It  was  Master  Martin  Groot,  a  most  respectable 
man,  with  a  fine  soul  for  a  bargain,  but  an  inveterate 
grumbler.  I  made  my  apologies  in  the  best  style  I 
could  command,  and  would  have  gone  on,  but  he  held 
to  my  arm. 

**  There  is  no  occasion  for  hurry,  lad,"  he  said.  "  I 
forgive  you  for  running  over  me,  for  I  verily  believe 
you  did  not  see  where  you  were  going.  Your  uniform 
is  very  fine — a  pretty  sum  it  must  have  cost! — and  be- 
comes you,  but  there  is  trouble  in  your  face.  What 
is  it.  lad?  Is  it  something  about  these  gay  English 
cock- sparrows,  who  are  always  going  to  beat  the 
French,  and  who  are  always  getting  beaten?" 

"  No,"  I  said  hastily,  and  somewhat  impatiently, 
"  I  have  no  trouble  at  all,  Master  Martin." 

"  I  don't  believe  you,"  he  said  bluntly.  "  Two-and- 
twenty  does  not  have  such  a  face  as  that  for  nothing." 

A  sympathetic  tone  in  the  man's  voice  kept  me 
from  being  angry.  But  I  could  not  tell  him  what 
really  ailed  me.  I  was  not  sure  that  it  was  anything. 
I  made  an  evasive  reply.  I  was  worried  about  the 
war,  I  said.  I  wondered  why  we  shilly-shallied  so 
long  in  New  York  instead  of  going  to  the  front  and 
displaying  the  same  activity  that  was  so  characteristic 
of  our  enemies,  and  which  accounted  for  their  notable 
successes.    - 

"  That  may  or  may  nol  be,"  he  said,  a  doubtful  look 
on  his  broad  face.  **  But  I  never  knew  the  fate  of  a 
campaign  to  rest  with  such  mighty  weight  upon  one 


AN    UNSOUGHT    INTERVIEW. 


17 


(I 


SO  young  before.  I  am  a  peaceful  man,  and  even  a 
man  of  wisdom,  Master  Charteris,  a  trader  in  search 
f  gain,  not  glory ;  but,  now  that  you  wear  the  King's 
uniform,  I  give  you  a  warning.  Beware  of  the  officers 
wlio  have  been  sent  over  seas  to  help  us  and  but  de- 
spise us.  An  idle,  empty,  and  worthless  set.  They 
corrupt  our  youth  with  their  drinkings  and  their  dan- 
cings and  their  debaucheries,  and  do  not  protect  our 
borders  from  the  French.  The  land  were  well  rid 
of  them!" 

He  took  his  grip  from  my  arm  and  let  me  pass. 
My  wearing  of  the  King's  uniform  had  caused  me  to 
receive  two  warnings  within  the  hour,  and  it  was  not 
difficult  for  me  to  say  which  was  the  kindlier  of  the 
two.  But  I  thought  that  Groot  went  to  extremities. 
He  was  always  a  dogmatic  man.  Nor  did  he  love  the 
English  any  the  more  because  he  had  no  English  blood 
in  his  veins.  He  was  overfond  of  saying  that  his  Dutch 
forefathers  should  have  held  New  Amsterdam,  in  which 
I  did  not  agree  with  him,  for  I  could  respect  the  lib- 
erty and  might  of  England  without  cheapening  mine 
own  country. 

I  suppose  it  was  perversity,  but,  having  been 
warned  not  to  pay  my  addresses  to  Marion,  I  decided 
that  I  would  call  upon  the  maiden. 

I  walked  briskly  toward  Mr.  Arthur's  fine  house 
in  Queen  Street,  near  the  mansions  of  William  Walton 
and  Abraham  de  Peyster,  which  have  been  considered 
worthy  of  much  praise,  and  found  Marion  in  the  rose 
garden. 

*'  You  have  something  to  tell  me! '"  she  said  with 
a  pert  air.  I  dare  say  a  look  of  importance  was  upon 
my  face. 

*'  Of  a  certainty,"  I  said  lightly.  "  Your  father  has 
just  told  me  that  he  intends  for  you  to  marry  an  Eng- 
lishman.   He  did  not  say  that  he  preferred  one  with  a 


'^'\~t*»SrftlOr»>.  -«M)^wr'i^-*4#^ 


-»*i^    n   ■V.-^t.i.,  *.^.W..V— ^.-1— .' 


S£^^£^^S!fc;ia 


1 8 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


3 


title,  but  he  hinted  as  much.  He  wants  you  to  be  *  my 
lady,'  with  a  train  of  servants  and  a  husband  who  can 
take  you  to  court." 

"That  would  be  famous,"  said  Marion,  a  gratified 
look  showing  on  her  pretty  countenance.  "  Truly  it 
would,  to  have  many  servants  and  to  go  to  court.  Oh, 
I  should  like  so  dearly  to  go  to  court  I  " 

I  was  a  little  piqued,  though  I  was  far  from  having 
the  right  to  feel  so.  It  was  not  for  me  to  dictate  her 
preference^. 

"  So  you  would  like  to  be  a  great  lady?  "  I  asked. 

"In  truth,  I  would!"  she  exclaimed.  "What 
woman  would  not?" 

I  knew  of  none,  and  I  turned  the  talk  to  the  fash- 
ions and  festivities  of  the  day,  oi  which  we  had  great 
plenty  in  New  York,  and  at  the  end  of  an  agreeable 
hour  I  left,  sure  that  her  crusty  old  father  would  have 
been  very  wrathful  had  he  known  that  directly  after 
receiving  his  warning  I  had  gone  to  see  his  daughter. 
There  was  pleasure  in  the  thought.  I  am  not  ashamed 
of  it;  therefore  I  admit  it. 


CHAPTER   III. 


A   GLIMPSE   OF   THE   GENERAL. 


But  when  I  was  in  the  street  alone  my  mind  re- 
turned to  more  serious  things,  and  my  spirits  fell 
again.  I  regretted  the  quarrel  with  Spencer,  for  it  was 
like  to  be  renewed,  though  as  sure  as  ever  that  I  had 
been  in  the  right. 

Not  wishing  to  return  just  then  to  my  quarters,  I 
strolled  about  in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  Ours  always 
had  been  a  lively  town,  but  the  turmoil  of  the  war  and 
the  presence  of  the  soldiery  and  the  dignitaries  had 
caused  an  exceeding  great  bustle  lately.  The  arrival 
of  night  scarce  served  to  diminish  it.  The  number 
of  street  lanterns  had  been  doubled,  and  the  number  of 
night  watchmen,  too,  for  that  matter,  as  the  coming 
of  the  soldiers  caused  much  disorder,  and  there  had 
been  many  broils.  It  was  only  the  other  day  that  I  had 
heard  some  of  our  most  respected  burghers  complain- 
ing of  the  bad  effect  the  presence  of  the  military  had 
on  public  morals. 

There  was  a  crowd  in  the  streets,  and  soldiers  were 
straying  about  the  Battery.  Several  of  the  military 
people  showed  signs  of  intoxication.  I  wondered  at 
this  laxity  of  discipline,  for  I  had  read  much  in  the 
books  about  the  art  of  war,  and  I  found  them  all 
agreed  that  strict  rules  and  an  enforced  obedience  to 
them  were  the  ingredients  of  success.  Now  when  I 
was  confronted  with  the  reality,  I  found  the  diflference 

19 


20 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


\i 


I 


I 


between  it  and  what  I  had  expected  so  great  that  I 
was  puzzled  to  account  for  it.  Nor  did  it  comfort  me 
to  observe  two  or  three  of  our  own  New  York  sol- 
diers among  the  roisterers.  I  thought  that  at  a  time 
when  our  arms  had  experienced  such  ill  success  every- 
where it  would  be  mightily  gratifying  to  the  home 
people  for  our  own  colonial  soldiers  to  set  a  good  ex- 
ample. .  ' 

Two  soldiers  approached  me.  One  was  in  the  uni- 
form of  the  British  grenadiers.  The  other  wore  the 
dress  of  a  New  York  regiment.  They  had  their  arms 
about  each  other's  shoulders,  and  they  were  reeling 
along  the  path.  I  do  not  know  whether  they  embraced 
because  of  drunken  affection  or  to  keep  from  falling 
down  in  a  lump.  As  they  drew  near  me  they  began  to 
sing  a  ribald  camp  song. 

I  stepped  back  into  the  shadow  of  some  trees,  as  I 
did  not  wish  to  be  annoyed  by  drunken  men.  But  my 
movement  was  too  late.  The  gleam  of  my  uniform 
caught  the  Englishman's  eye. 

"'Ello!  "  he  cried.  "  A  horficer!  Come,  horficer, 
and  'ave  a  drink  with  us!  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  American,  "  come  and  join  'Meri- 
can  and  English  soldiers  and  gentlemen.  Treat  you 
as  it  you  were  the  King  himself.  You're  an  officer, 
but  we're  not  proud.  We'll  drink  with  you,  and  let 
you  pay  the  score!  "  '  ^  ' 

"  Pass  on! "  I  said  in  disgust.  "  I  will  report  you 
to  your  regiments,  and  you  will  both  be  lucky  if  you 
escape  the  cat  o'  nine  tails." 

"What  a  horficer  'e  is!"  exclaimed  the  English- 
man, pretending  to  be  very  much  frightened,  **  and 
'ow  'e  used  to  set  the  French  and  the  Haustrians  and 
the  Dons  a-running!  One  look  at  'im  was  enough  for 
*em.  General,  we  gives  you  our  best  compliments, 
and  'opes  you  are  in  werry  good  'ealth." 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    THE    GENERAL. 


21 


Arm  in  arm  they  stood  stiffly  erect  before  me. 
Then  they  pulled  off  their  caps  and  bowed  so  low  that 
they  were  unable  to  return  to  the  perpendicular,  and 
fell  over  in  a  heap,  I  left  them  there,  a  struggling 
mixture  of  arms  and  legs  and  shoulders,  from  which 
confusion  came  a  medley  of  English  and  American 
oaths. 

I  turned  my  course  over  toward  the  East  River, 
and  gazed  at  the  twinkling  lights  on  Long  Island, 
where  some  of  our  soldiers  had  gone,  and  where  it 
was  reported  Loudoun  intended  to  make  a  fortified 
camp  for  the  defense  of  the  continent. 

Presently  Culverhouse  came  to  me  there.  He,  too, 
he  said,  in  the  absence  of  anything  better  to  do,  had 
been  strolling  about,  and,  seeing  me  staring  over  the 
water  as  if  I  were  moonstruck,  had  joined  me.  I  had 
not  known  Culverhouse  long,  but  we  had  become  very 
good  friends.  Though  his  military  rank  corresponded 
to  mine,  he  was  two  or  three  years  my  senior,  and  had 
seen  a  good  bit  of  life  in  the  great  European  world, 
with  the  stories  of  which  he  often  entertained  me. 
Besides,  there  was  so  much  that  was  frank  and  honest 
in  Culverhouse's  nature  that  it  was  much  easier  to 
like  him  than  to  dislike  him. 

'*  Watching  the  proposed  encampment,  eh,  Char- 
teris?"  h-"  said.  "Well,  we  can  send  a  fine  body  of 
troops  over  there,  but  it  seems  to  me  our  commanders 
could  put  them  to  better  use.  It  scarce  becomes  us 
to  wait  here  in  New  York  for  the  French  to  attack 
us." 

There  was  a  touch  of  bitterness  in  his  tone.  The 
shameless  waste  of  time  was  the  source  of  much  vexa- 
tion to  the  younger  officers,  and  it  was  a  comfort  to 
speak  of  our  grievances. 

"  We  hav^e  fared  badly  enough  in  the  war,"  I  said, 
"  but   suppose    Montcalm   were   to   have    Loudoun's 


Z2 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


ii; 


-  1;, 


abundance  of  resources  and  Loudoun  were  forced  to 
endure  Montcalm's  dearth  of  men,  money,  and  ma- 
terial?"   : 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Culverhouse,  "  King  George 
would  have  to  abandon  claim  to  the  last  foot  of  soil 
on  this  Western  continent.  But  our  luck  is  not  so  bad 
as  that.  Perhaps  m  e  will  go  to  the  front  some  day,  and 
then  M.  Montcalm  may  have  to  change  the  news  that 
he  sends  to  his  master  in  Paris." 

"  It  is  strange  that  Loudoun  does  not  move,"  I 
said.  "  I  have  heard  that  he  is  ambitious,  and  one 
would  think  he  would  seize  the  oppc  -unity  tc  win 
glory." 

"  You  have  not  seen  him,  then?"  said  Culverhouse 
briskly.  "  Perhaps  your  opportunity  is  coming  now. 
He  is  to  visit  the  town  to-night,  and,  as  he  has  been 
spending  the  day  on  Long  Island,  he  must  return  by 
water.     Ho  should  land  near  here." 

I  proposed  that  we  await  the  chance,  and  Culver- 
house assented  willingly. 

"  That  may  be  the  earl  now,"  he  said,  fifteen  min- 
utes later,  pointing  to  a  dista'it  spatter  of  light  on  the 
stream. 

The  light  was  approaching,  and  we  guessed  it  to  be 
made  by  a  lantern  in  a  boat.  That  our  surmise  was 
correct  was  soon  indicated  by  the  faint  splashing  of 
oars.  Then  some  one  began  to  sing.  The  words  were 
those  of  a  lilting  love  ballad,  which  Culverhouse  told 
me  was  a  great  favorite  with  people  of  quality  in 
London. 

"  I  think  that  is  the  commander  in  chief's  barge," 
said  Culverhouse. 

"  Do  you  know  the  voice  of  the  singer?  *    I  asked. 

Culverhouse  did  not  reply,  and  when  I  asked  the 
question  again  he  still  failed  to  answer. 

The  song  ceased,  but  it  was  followed  by  applause 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    THE    GENERAL. 


23 


and  laughter.  The  barge  had  now  come  into  the  hght. 
It  was  gayly  decorated,  and  carried  a  half  dozen  per- 
sons, besides  the  oarsmen.  In  the  center  of  the  boat 
sat  a  man  of  middle  age.  He  had  a  florid  face,  a  high 
forehead,  and  rather  small  eyes.  His  expression 
seemed  to  m^  to  be  both  haughty  and  petulant.  He 
wore  a  brilliant  uniform,  but  his  cocked  hat  was  set 
a  trifle  more  rakishly  on  one  side  than  the  sober- 
minded  would  deem  consistent  with  dignity.  He  was 
speaking  in  rather  heated  tones  to  a  man  who  sat 
facing  him. 

"  I  tell  you.  Hardy,"  he  said,  **  these  fellows  of 
yours  are  a  pestiferous  set  to  deal  with.  They  expect 
too  much  of  the  King  and  his  officers,  and  when  they 
get  it  they  expect  more.  Are  we  to  spend  all  our  time 
and  energy  in  protecting  people  who  should  protect 
themselves?  " 

"  But  it  is  for  such  purposes  that  the  King  has  sent 
us  here,  my  lord,"  replied  the  man  gravely. 

I  recognized  the  second  speaker,  a  substantial, 
elderly  figure,  as  Sir  Charles  Hardy,  who  had  but  re- 
cently resigned  his  position  as  royal  governor  of  the 
most  loyal  province  of  New  York  in  order  that  a  good 
sailor  might  not  be  spoiled  in  the  making  of  a  poor 
governor. 

"  It  is  true,"  exclaimed  the  man,  not  abating  the 
loudness  or  sharpness  of  his  tone,  "  but  we  are  not 
here  to  be  cozened  and  cheated  by  them.  They  are 
shrewd  hands  at  driving  bargains,  and  think  more  of 
squeezing  a  profit  out  of  my  army  than  of  contribut- 
ing to  the  King's  grandeur  and  glory.  This  is  a  fine 
coil  when  a  nobleman  must  serve  the  ends  of  such 
hucksters  and  traders." 

"The  Earl  of  Loudoun,  the  commander  in  chief?" 
I  whispered  to  Culverhouse. 

He  nodded. 


24 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I'    :l 


I,.- 


We  did  not  mean  to  be  eavesdroppers,  for  I  have 
ever  despised  such,  but  we  could  not  withdraw  with- 
out attracting  attention  to  ourselves,  perhaps  to  be 
followed  by  unpleasant  inquiry. 

"  I  think,  my  lord,"  said  Sir  Charles  mildly,  "  that 
you  misjudge  our  people  here.  Doubtless  there  are 
cheats  among  them,  but  we  have  such  at  home  in  Eng- 
land, too,  you  know."  .:,-■/, .'..:.,:;:,;..,.^^ 

"  But  they  are  not  among  our  foremost  men  there," 
said  Loudoun,  with  a  fiushed  face.  "  Besides,  I  like 
not  the  talk  that  has  been  carried  on  so  freely  about 
me  here.  It  seems  to  me  they  take  strange  liberties 
with  their  betters  in  the  colonies.  Hardy.  They  com- 
pare me  with  Montcalm,  and  they  say  the  Frenchman 
does  not  suffer  by  it.  What  do  you  think  of  that, 
Hardy?" 

Sir  Charles  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  I  knew 
what  his  reply  must  be  if  he  spoke  the  truth,  but  the 
Governor  was  a  diplomatic  man,  and  presently  he  said, 
smoothly  and  \ivenly:        ,,.v., 

"  You  must  admit,  my  lord,  that  Montcalm  has 
skill,  and  has  been  able  to  make  some  head  against 
us.  But  I  doubt  not  that  when  you  take  the  field  you 
will  make  disposition  of  him  to  the  great  satisfaction 
of  his  Majesty  and  all  of  us." 

"  Ay,  that  I  will,  Hardy !  "  said  the  earl  with  re- 
turning cheerfulness.  '*  Even  now  I  am  expecting 
news  from  Webb  that  he  has  chased  Montcalm  back 
into  his  own  savage  country.  What  can  a  few  French- 
men and  their  savage  allies  accomplish  against  my 
br^ve  boys  there? " 

He  waved  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  tw'nkling 
lights,  where  the  bulk  of  the  army  lay,  and  then 
clapped  it  heavily  upon  the  shoulder  of  a  man  who  sat 
near  him. 

"  What  can  the  Frencnman  and  his  savages  effect 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    THE    GENERAL. 


25 


against  a  real  army,  I  say,  McLean? "  he  asked,  raising 
his  voice  again. 

I  had  not  paid  until  then  any  particular  notice  to 
tlie  man  whom  he  called  McLean.  But  the  earl's 
action  caused  me  to  examine  him  closely.  Though  the 
blow  was  rather  a  heavy  one,  McLean  did  not  yield 
to  it  a  particle.  His  was  an  elderly  face,  darkened  and 
seamed  by  years  and  exposure.  He  had  a  small,  red 
eye,  a  high,  hooked  nose,  and  a  stubby  red  beard.  He 
was  Scotch.  That  vas  plain  enough.  His  face  was 
one  of  great  strength.  Here  was  a  man  of  will  and 
action,  I  thought. 

"  One  of  the  majors,"  whispered  Culverhouse. 

"  There  are  many  in  your  army,  my  lord,"  said 
Major  McLean,  "  who  would  like  to  give  the  French- 
man the  opportunity  to  see  what  he  can  do." 

"  You  make  rather  free.  Major  McLean,"  said  the 
earl,  showing  temper.  Then  he  added  more  lightly, 
"  But  I  must  remember  that  you  are  one  of  those  who 
have  a  most  wickea  appetite  for  war,  and  love  to  see 
the  flash  of  the  cannon — a  most  unchristian  taste,  I 
submit,  is  it  not.  Hardy?" 

"  Since  there  must  be  wars,  it  is  well  that  some 
should  have  it,"  said  Sir  Charles. 

"  And  we  do  not  think,  my  lord,"  said  the  Scotch- 
man, speaking  in  a  firm,  precise  tone,  "  that  it  is  a  qual- 
ity in  the  possession  of  which  the  French  should  excel 
us  just  now." 

"  Let  the  French  rest  for  awhile,"  said  Loudoun 
impatiently. 

"  My  lord,  we  have  let  them  rest  too  long  already," 
said  the  major. 

Loudoun  uttered  something  that  sounded  Hkc  an 
oath.  But  Major  McLean  was  so  much  his  senior  in 
years  and  experience  that  he  could  scarcely  resent 
openly  the  criticism  that  he  knew  to  be  so  just. 


)< 


26 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


<i 


"  We  will  take  these  matters  up  in  a  day  or  two," 
he  said.  "  Meanwhile  we  will  confine  ourselves  to  the 
business  in  hand." 

The  barge  had  reached  the  shore,  but  the  oarsmen 
experienced  some  difficulty  in  holding  it  to  the  landing 
place.  The  boat  and  its  lights  had  attracted  another 
spectator,  a  tall,  lank  man,  whose  features  we  could 
not  discern  in  the  dusk.   . 

The  lapping  of  the  tide  swung  the  boat  back  and 
forth,  and  it  bumped  heavily  more  than  once  against 
the  wharf.  Loudoun,  seized  with  impatience,  cried 
out  to  the  tall  stranger,  who  had  come  near: 

"  Here,  you  lout,  lend  a  hand  and  pull  the  boat 
up!" 

The  stranger  slouched  closer  to  the  wharf,  but 
made  no  movement  to  help.  We  were  now  able  to 
obtain  a  better  view  of  his  face,  and  we  saw  that  it 
was  that  of  a  boy  rather  than  a  man.  He  was  at  least 
six  feet  two  inches  tall,  and  as  slim  as  a  rail.  A  great 
shock  of  tow  hair  overhung  a  pair  of  blinking  blue 
eyes.  He  leered  inquisitively  at  the  barge  and  its 
passengers. 

"  I  say,  you  lout,"  called  Loudoun  angrily,  "  be..r  a 
hand  and  help  us  with  the  boat!  " 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  stranger?"  asked 
the  lad,  speaking  in  a  nasal  drawl,  and  showing  no 
signs  of  discomposure.  "  I  don't  see  no  cause  to  get 
excited.  That's  a  tarnal  fine  uniform  you  have  on, 
stranger.  I'd  like  to  have  it.  I'll  trade  you  these  old 
clothes  of  mine  for  it." 

The  elongated  lad  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed 
an  uproarious,  idiotic  laugh. 

**  This  is  a  type  of  your  huckstering,  clumsy  pro- 
vincial. Hardy!  "  said  Loudoun.  "  It  is  just  as  I  said. 
What  can  we  do  with  fellows  like  this?" 

"  Help  us  with  the  boat,"  said  Sir  Charles  to  the 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    THE    GENERAL. 


ar 


lad.  "  This  is  the  commander  in  chief,  and  you  may 
have  the  opportunity  to-morrow  to  tell  your  com- 
panions that  you  did  a  service  for  the  Earl  of  Lou- 
doun himself." 

"  And  if  you  don't  help  us,"  added  Loudoun  im- 
patiently, "  I  may  make  it  somewhat  uncomfortable 
for  you ! " 

The  boy  leaned  his  great  lengtli  against  a  post, 
pulled  at  his  tow  locks,  and  said  with  a  grin: 

*'  I  ain't  scared,  and  I  ain't  goin'  to  help  neither. 
I  ain't  no  soldier  to  be  ordered  around.  Let  him  help 
himself." 

"Dash  the  fellow  for  his  impertinence!"  ex- 
claimed Loudoun.  "  I'll  give  him  a  taste  of  discipline 
in  advance  myself!  " 

He  attempted  to  leap  from  the  boat  to  the  wharf, 
but  miscalculated,  and  fell  with  a  great  splash  into  the 
sea.  Two  stout  oarsmen  seized  him  and  dragged  him 
.spluttering  back  into  the  boat. 

The  boy,  whom  I  now  took  to  be  feeble  of  mind, 
bent  over  in  a  semicircle,  put  his  hands  upon  his  knees, 
and  laughed  in  huge  glee. 

"Oh,  what  a  splash  you  made!"  he  exclaimed 
between  chuckles.  "  An'  that  tarnation  fine  uniform 
ail  wet  through  and  through!" 

"I'll  have  you  flogged  half  to  death!"  exclaimed 
the  earl  furiously,  coughing  the  dirty  salt  water  out 
of  his  throat.  Probably  he  would  have  carried  out  his 
threat,  but  when  the  men  succeeded  in  tying  the  boat 
to  the  wharf  and  he  stepped  ashore  the  lad  was  gone 
in  the  darkness,  slipping  away  as  silently  as  an  Indian. 

"  The  earl  will  have  to  get  a  new  uniform  for  the 
ball,"  said  Culverhouse. 

"What  ball?"  I  asked. 

"Why,  the  ball  at  the  Waltons'!"  replied  Culver- 
house.    "  Have  you  forgotten?" 


w 

I 


t 


! 


28 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I  had  forgotten  for  the  moment.  But  the  events 
of  the  flay  were  sufficient  excuse  for  my  condition  of 
mind.  I  had  an  invitation  to  the  ball,  which  was  to 
be  an  exceeding  great  affair,  graced  by  the  presence 
of  all  the  dignitaries,  both  military  and  civil,  and  I 
determined  to  attend. 

An  hour  later  Culverhouse  and  I  approached  the 
brilliantly  illuminated  residence,  in  Queen  Street,  of 
my  prosperous  fellow-townsman,  Mr.  William  Walton, 
who,  you  will  recall,  was  the  son  of  Captain  William 
Walton,  a  famous  shipbuilder,  and  who  made  a  great 
fortune  out  of  some  fine  contracts  with  the  Spanish  at 
St.  Augustine.  I  wa  myself  a  distant  relative  of  his 
wife  Cornelia,  through  the  Beekmans,  she  being  the 
daughter  of  Dr.  William  Beekman,  whose  wife,  Cath- 
arine de  la  Noy,  was  my  mother's  first  cousin. 


I; 


CHAPTER   IV. 


THE   FASHION   OF   NEW   YORK. 


CuLVERHOUSE  and  I  stood  for  awhile  in  the  street 
admiring  this  noble  mansion,  which  is  yet  pointed  out 
to  all  who  visit  in  New  York.  I  do  not  believe  the 
colonies  could  boast  another  of  such  stately  propor- 
tions, with  its  three  imposing  stories,  its  noble  portico, 
with  fluted  columns  and  other  embellishments  of  the 
architectural  art.  The  three  long  rows  of  windows 
were  flashing  with  lights.  The  carriages  of  our  aris- 
tocracy were  arriving  already.  The  link  boys  were  in 
the  streets  with  their  flaming  torches,  shouting  to  eac!i 
other  and  conveying  the  commands  of  their  masters. 
A  great  display  they  made,  too,  for  we  had  a  very 
rich,  proud,  and  powerful  aristocracy.  In  truth,  it 
was  charged  against  us  in  the  New  York  colony  then 
that,  while  we  pretended  to  freedom  and  democratic 
equality,  we  had  transplanted  the  feudal  system  of  Eu- 
rope, and  cherished  it  full  as  warmly  as  it  was  cher- 
ished in  its  ancient  seats.  But  U  is  not  for  me  to  dis- 
cuss the  question  here. 

Presently  a  noble  white  chariot  drawn  by  four 
great  black  horses  drove  up  with  a  mighty  clatter  of 
hoofs  and  rattle  of  wheels.  Mr.  James  de  Lancey,  the 
Lieutenant  Governor  of  our  colony,  a  very  great  man, 
and  his  family  alighted  from  it  and  entered  the  house. 
Anothe*-  chariot,  containing  Mr.  Oliver  de  Lancey,  his 
brother,  and  his  family,  followed  speedily.    Then  came 

29 


30 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


1^ 


their  great  rivals,  the  Livingstons,  our  city  being  di- 
vided into  two  camps,  the  de  j^ancey  camp  and  the 
Livingston  camp,  and  after  them  our  treasurer,  Abra- 
ham de  Peyster,  who,  I  verily  believe,  made  the  no- 
blest and  most  sumptuous  show  of  them  all.  His  coach 
was  trimmed  in  silver,  with  the  family  arms  very  con- 
spicuous upon  it,  and  was  drawn  by  four  spirited  and 
beautifully  matched  grays.  There  were  four  servants 
in  attendance,  each  wearing  a  blue  coat  lined  with  yel- 
low, with  yellow  cuflfs  and  yellow  small  clothes.  The 
buttons  were  of  plain  velvet,  but  the  buttonholes  were 
beautifully  worked  in  yellow. 

I  would  have  liked  to  ask  Culverhouse  if  he  had 
seen  any  more  sumptuous  equipage  in  London,  but  I 
thought  it  better  taste  not  to  do  so. 

Then  came  the  Philipses  and  the  Van  Courtlandts 
and  the  Reekmans  and  the  Wattses  and  the  Coldens 
and  the  Alexanders  and  the  Roosevelts  and  the  Lis- 
penards  and  the  Nicollses  and  so  many  others  that  I 
can  not  tell  of  them  all,  merely  adding  again  for  the 
benefit  of  strangers  that  we  had  an  aristocracy  which, 
time  and  place  considered,  was  quite  the  equal  of  any 
in  the  world. 

"Look!  look!"  exclaimed  Culverhouse  suddenly. 
"  See,  'tis  the  Queen  of  France!  " 

The  ligh'  blue  chariot  of  Mr.  Archibald  Kennedy, 
drawn  by  fcu'  matched  sorrels,  had  just  stopped  before 
the  door.  Ar.  Kennedy  had  sprung  out,  and  with 
bared  head  was  assisting  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  to  alight. 
I  understood  at  once  what  Culverhouse  meant  when 
he  exclaimed,  "  The  Queen  of  France!  " 

Mile.  Louise  was  arrayed  in  her  finest,  which  was 
very  fine  indeed,  and  for  the  moment  my  eyes  were 
dazzled  by  the  splendor  of  her  toilet  and  the  striking 
contrast  of  her  deep  blue  eyes  and  shining  black  hair. 
She  bore  herself,  too,  with  a  dignity  equal  to  her 


THE    FASHION    OF    NEW    YORK. 


31 


beauty,  and  this  dignity,  verging  upon  haughtiness, 
was  quite  natural  in  one  among  a  strange  and  hostile 
people. 

liehind  her  came  the  seigneur,  glittering  in  the 
lace  and  gold  of  a  colonel  of  France,  with  his  cocked 
and  plumed  hat  on  his  head,  and  solendid  medals  and 
orders  upon  his  breast.  With  his  brown,  leathery,  and 
Indianlike  face,  he  looked  very  strange,  and  yet  very 
imposing,  in  such  brilliant  garb,  xie  was  as  stiff  as 
a  ramrod,  and  his  failure  to  express  any  emotion  what- 
soever increased  the  resemblance  of  his  face  to  that  of 
the  red  warrior. 

"  Why,  how  did  they  come  here? "  I  asked  Culver- 
house  in  some  surprise. 

"Why  shouldn't  they  come?"  replied  he.  "The 
seigneur  is  here  upon  official  and  important  business. 
It  is  natural  that  he  should  be  the  guest  of  Mr.  Ken- 
nedy, with  whom  he  has  had  commercial  dealings  be- 
fore the  war,  and  it  was  the  courtesy  of  one  nation  to 
another  to  invite  them  to  this  ball." 

A  restive  horse  attached  to  another  carriage  pressed 
very  close  to  mademoiselle.  I  was  glad  of  the  oppor- 
tunity, and  I  sprang  forward,  pulling  the  horse  back 
with  one  hand  and  sweeping  my  hat  off  with  the 
other,  while  I  made  a  very  low  bow. 

Mile,  de  St.  Maur  recognized  me  upon  the  instant, 
much  to  my  joy. 

"  I  have  to  thank  you  twice  to-day,  Lieutenant 
Charteris,"  she  said  with  a  very  bright  smile. 

Then  the  Kennedy  party  went  into  the  house,  and 
Culverhouse  and  I  soon  followed.  r  ,,.  , 

The  ball  was  given  for  the  honor  and  entertainment 
of  our  commander  in  chief,  and  all  the  officers  and  per- 
sons of  distinction  in  the  town  were  invited.  Our  com- 
mercial people  in  New  York  had  accumulated  much 
store  of  wealth,  and  they  were  not  reluctant  to  give 


f 


^1^  1 


3a 


A   SOLDIER    OF   MANHATTAN. 


V'i  k 


i^ 


Si 


evidence  of  it.  In  truth,  Ihey  would  be  anxious,  the 
feminine  portion  of  them  in  particular,  to  make  a 
goodly  show  before  our  cousins  from  England. 

When  I  entered  the  ballroom  I  saw  that  I  would 
have  no  cause  to  feel  shame  for  our  Americans.  They 
wore  costumes  brilliant  in  color  and  of  the  latest  mode, 
many  of  them  having  been  brought  over  from  Lon- 
don at  great  cost  especially  for  such  grand  routs  as 
this. 

Standing  stiffly  erect  just  under  one  of  the  wax 
candles  was  Mr.  Arthur,  looking  very  prim  and  pre- 
cise. His  eyes  met  mine,  but  he  took  no  notice  of 
me  beyond  a  slight  nod.  I  replied  with  a  nod  equally 
indiflferent.  I  looked  about  me  for  Marion,  and  did 
not  see  her;  but  my  attention  was  attracted  at  that 
moment  by  a  great  bustle  it  the  door.  Important 
personages  were  entering,  and  the  military  band, 
loaned  by  the  earl  himself,  and  stationed  in  the  next 
room,  began  to  play  a  most  inspiriting  tune. 

It  was  the  earl,  accompanied  by  Sir  Charles  Hardy 
and  a  numerous  stafT,  who  was  entering.  He  was 
much  more  composed  and  dignified  than  when  I  had 
seen  him  before,  and  conducted  himself  with  gracious- 
ness  and  tact.  The  occasion  and  the  surroundings 
were  congenial.  At  one  end  of  the  room  was  a  dais, 
bearing  a  fanciful  resemblance  to  a  throne.  To  this 
the  earl  was  conducted,  and,  sitting  there,  he  received 
the  addresses  and  the  homage  of  those  who  sought 
his  acquaintance  or  favor.  Among  the  latter,  I  am 
bound  to  confess,  were  some  of  our  own  people.  Mill- 
wood, the  fat  contractor,  who  had  made  such  great 
sums  by  furnishing  short  supplies  at  long  prices  to 
the  army,  was  there,  bowing  and  smirking  as  if  the 
hinges  of  his  knees  had  been  freshly  oiled  and  he  were 
the  most  honest  man  in  the  room. 

"  It  is  your  turn,  Charteris,"  said   Culverhouse, 


THE  FASHION  OF  NEW  YORK. 


33 


thrusting  a  very  sharp  elbow  into  my  side,  "  to  make 
apologies  for  your  countryman.  I  think  of  the  two 
I  would  prefer  the  earl." 

I  had  small  relish  for  his  gibe,  and,  not  knowing 
how  to  retort,  I  devoted  myself  to  the  more  grateful 
task  of  joining  the  ladies. 

Other  rooms  connecting  with  the  ballroom  had 
been  prepared  for  the  guests,  and  they  were  at  liberty 
to  wander  through  them  as  they  chose.  There  was 
nuich  to  bee.  The  grand  staircase,  with  its  hand  rails 
and  banisters  of  mahogany,  was  a  noble  specimen  of 
art.  In  th^  great  dining  room  was  the  finest  display 
of  silver  plate  in  all  the  colonies,  and  I  heard  long 
after,  when  the  King  wanted  to  tax  the  colonies  and 
they  pleaded  poverty,  that  some  of  the  English  officers 
who  had  been  present  cited  this  very  display  of  plate, 
and  said  few  noblemen  in  England  were  rich  enough 
to  show  its  equal.    5      -         ^v  t>K'  :'.;:; 

In  the  most  secluded  of  the  rooms  I  saw  Marion, 
talking  to  Spencer.  She  arose  at  once,  and  introduced 
me  to  Captain  Gerald  Spencer,  who  had  .-arrived  but 
a  short  while  ago  from  Europe  to  join  the  army.  We 
bowed  as  if  we  had  never  met  before.  In  trutli,  ours 
had  been  but  a  brief  and  unpleasant  coffeehouse  ac- 
quaintance. 

"  Captain  Spencer  brings  some  letters  from  very 
good  friends  of  my  father  in  England,  and,  as  Lieu- 
tenant Charteris  is  my  father's  particular  friend  also, 
it  is  v/ell  that  you  should  meet  and  know  each  other," 
she  said. 

Spencer  began  to  talk  about  the  latest  fripperies 
in  London,  in  which  Marion  seemed  to  be  much  in- 
terested. I  was  taken  at  a  great  disadv^^^age.  I  had 
no  natural  turn  for  such  subjects,  and,  besides,  I  had 
never  been  in  London  in  my  life.  I  endeavored  to 
bring  the  talk  hack  to  matters  nearer  home,  and  even 


34 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


I' 


Km:! 


mentioned  the  war,  but  Marion  struck  mc  on  the  arm 
with  her  fan,  and  said  in  a  sHghtly  vexed  tone : 

"  Do  not  mention  the  war  to-night,  Lieutenant 
Charteris.  Why  do  we  come  to  the  ball  but  to  escape 
from  the  talk  about  this  fighting." 

"  The  lady  is  right.  Lieutenant  Charteris,"  said 
Spencer;  "  we  will  restrain  our  warlike  inclinations 
until  we  meet  the  French." 

I  had  blundered,  and,  making  my  apologies,  I  left 
them.  So  I  soon  found  myself  again  in  the  company  of 
Culverhouse,  and  shortly  afterward  saw  Mr.  Arthur 
talking  with  an  appearance  of  great  friendliness  and 
favor  to  Spencer. 

"  Tell  me  something  about  him,"  I  said  t  "ulver- 
house,  inclining  my  head  in  the  directiori  oi  Spencer. 
I  felt  that  I  had  a  certain  guardianship  over  Marion, 
inasmuch  as  we  had  been  playmates  and  were  akin. 

"There  is  not  enough  to  make  a  long  tale,"  he 
said.  "  I've  had  some  slight  acquaintance  with  him  in 
England,  and,  so  far  as  I  know,  he's  a  decent  sort  of 
chap,  though  what  you  Americans  call  stiff.  He  is  of 
a  very  old  and  high  family  in  England." 

"Indeed!  From  what  royal  mistress  is  he  de- 
scended?" 

"  You  are  jealous.     Spencer  is  to  be  a  baron*^ 
when  his  old  unmarried  uncle  dies,  but  the  estates  i; 
not  large.     Mr.  Arthur  fancies  him,  and  perhaps  the 
maiden,  too." 

The  band  v*^as  now  playing  music  for  the  dance. 
Some  new  dances  had  been  brought  up  lately  from 
the  Virginia  province  that  had  been  received  with 
great  favor  in  New  York.  I  thought  at  first  I  would 
ask  Marion  to  be  my  partner  for  one  of  them,  as  Spen- 
cer's manner  had  incensed  me  a  bit,  but  I  concluled 
that  I  would  ask  somebody  else.  The  next  mom ;-:.'' t 
I  saw  her  dancing  with  the  earl  himself. 


THE   FASHION   OF   NEW   YORK. 


35 


In  truth,  Marion  was  not  much  in  my  mind  just 
then,  and  I  began  to  look  for  the  one  who  was.  Pres- 
ently I  saw  her  black  hair,  in  which  was  thrust  a  lily 
of  France,  shining  between  the  brown  and  yellow 
heads  of  our  own  fair  New  York  girls.  I  was  just 
in  time,  for  they  had  begun  a  most  unfair  attack  upon 
her,  saying  that  neither  Quebec  nor  Montreal  could 
present  such  an  array  of  fine  men  and  beautiful  women 
as  that  now  present. 

"  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  will  not  yield  to  our  claims, 
Lieutenant  Charteris,"  said  Miss  Mary  Golden  to  me 
as  I  approached. 

"Nor  should  she,"  said  . I,  with  a  gallantry  in- 
tended for  Mile.  Louise's  ear.  "  The  lily  of  France  is 
always  triumphant." 

Then  I  carried  her  off  to  the  dance,  she  smiling 
her  thanks  to  me  and  I  hugely  delighted  with  myself. 
More  than  once  in  the  dance  I  met  Marion's  eyes,  and 
I  saw  a  peculiar  smile  there  which  made  me  flush  a 
little.  I  thought  she  might  be  piqued  a  bit,  for  a 
woman  likes  to  have  many  lovers  on  her  string. 

The  earl  was  in  high  good  humor,  all  the  ih  tem- 
per I  had  seen  in  him  when  he  was  in  the  barge 
having  departed.  His  partner's  beauty  and  grace 
could  not  fail  to  make  an  impression  upon  him,  and 
his  manner  was  of  the  courtliest.  No  doubt  the  war 
and  its  responsibilities  had  disappeared  entirely  from 
his  mind.  A  little  later,  when  I  was  compelled  to 
yield  mademoiselle  to  another  colonial  officer  and  I 
was  standing  alone,  some  one  tapped  me  on  the  arm; 
I  looked  around  and  beheld  the  glum  face  of  Martin 
Groot. 

Martin  had  arrayed  himself  in  something  like  fes- 
tive style  in  deference  to  the  occasion,  but  his  counte- 
nance was  as  morose  and  his  temper  as  irascible  as 
ever. 


3« 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


M 


i 


\{ 


I* 


"  I  wonder  if  Montcalm  is  engag^ed  'n  the  same 
business  just  now?"  he  said,  lookirg  sourly  at  the 
earl. 

His  remark  seemed  apt,  and  I  suggested  that 
Montcalm  was  probably  dancing  to  another  sort  of 
music,  and  that  we  would  have  to  pay  for  his  fiddler. 

"  And  he  will  continue  to  present  his  bills  to  us 
for  payment,"  said  Groot,  "  so  long  as  the  English 
send  over  gallants  like  that  earl  there  to  command 
us.     Pah!     Are  we  children  to  stand  this?" 

I  suggested  that  we  were  not  altogether  without 
blan^e  ourselves,  and  I  made  instance  of  Millwood, 
the  contractor,  and  others,  all  of  whom  were  present 
that  evening,  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  our  provin- 
cial court. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  the  glowering  Martin.  "  What 
a  pity  Montcalm  could  not  catch  eve*  one  of  them, 
and  send  them  off  to  France! — that  is,  the  dishonest 
ones;  for  I  am  in  the  army  supply  business  myself, 
and  they  hurt  my  trade." 

Then  he  passed  on  to  pour  his  complaints  into  the 
ears  of  others  who  he  knew  would  not  repeat  his  cen- 
sorious remarks. 

As  I  had  no  partner  for  the  next  dance,  I  sought 
the  seigneur,  and  exerted  myself  that  I  might  be  agree- 
able to  him.  I  found  him  to  be  a  man  of  most  courtly 
breeding.  Nothing  in  his  manner  indicated  his  knowl- 
edge that  he  was  upon  the  enemy's  ground,  and  for 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  talked  to  me  of  the  Old  World 
and  told  me  incidents  of  the  court  of  France.  But  ours 
was  a  shifting  crowd.  Every  one  in  his  turn  gave 
way  to  some  one  else,  and  presently  I  found  myself 
again  with  Culverhouse.  He  advised  me  to  go  into 
one  of  the  side  rooms  and  partake  of  a  famous  brew 
prepared  by  our  host,  who  was  renowned  throughout 
the  colony  for  his  splendid  entertainments.    The  ad- 


THE    FASHION    OF    NEW    YORK. 


37 


vice  seemed  palatable,  and  we  wandered  off  in  search 
of  the  boasted  decoction. 

We  found  a  lively  group  around  the  punchbowl. 
They  were  mostly  young  officers,  British  and  Ameri- 
can both.  Some  of  them  we  knew,  and  they  greeted 
us  with  much  applause.  I  drank  a  glass  to  the  toast 
of  our  military  success,  and  it  put  much  heart  into  me. 

"  Here  comes  a  new  officer!  "  exclaimed  our  Scotch 
friend,  young  Graham,  who  had  been  no  enemy  to  the 
punch.  "  But  I  wonder  what  army  he  belongs  to.  By 
my  faith,  he  must  be  a  general  at  the  very  least!" 
He  pointed  to  the  door,  and  there  was  a  great  out- 
burst of  laughter  from  the  group.  But  Culverhouse 
pinched  my  arm  in  his  surprise,  which,  however,  did 
not  exceed  mine. 

The  boy  who  had  laughed  at  the  earl's  mishap, 
looking  longer  and  lanker  than  ever  in  the  bright  light, 
stalked  solemnly  into  the  room.  He  was  not  disturbed 
one  whit  by  the  derisive  laughter  that  saluted  him. 
He  looked  about  him,  but  there  was  no  trace  of  ex- 
pression on  his  face.  We  might  have  been  a  thousand 
miles  away,  so  far  as  his  eye  denoted  anything. 

"  Well,  general,"  cried  Graham,  "  is  there  anything 
we  can  do  for  you?  Have  you  any  commands  for  us, 
or  do  you  wish  to  lead  us  immediately  against  the 
French?" 

The  boy  looked  at  Graham,  and  then  his  eyes 
passed  on  to  the  others. 

"  Come!  come!  "  cried  Graham,  "  we  all  know  the 
respect  that  is  due  to  your  Highness,  but  you  know 
our  martial  character  also,  and  we  beseech  you  to 
break  our  suspense  and  tell  us  if  the  danger  be  press- 
ing." 

"  I'm  looking  for  the  Earl  of  Loudoun,"  said  the 
boy,  "  an'  you  ain't  him." 

"  Nothing  less  than  the  earl  himself  will  content 


38 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


ir-i 


ii!^' 


■I; 


^8 


% 


I 


the  general!  "  exclaimed  Graham,  flushing  a  little  when 
the  officers  laughed  at  the  boy's  remark.  "  That's 
right,  general ;  don't  forfeit  your  dignity  by  discussing 
deep  affairs  with  mere  captains  and  lieutenants.  But 
I  fear  much  that  the  earl  will  not  be  accessible  just 
now,  even  to  so  great  a  personage  as  your  Highness. 
His  occupation  at  this  moment  is  too  pleasurable  for 
us  to  interrupt  it." 

"  I  want  to  see  the  Earl  of  Loudoun,"  repeated  the 
boy  in  the  same  expressionless  tone. 

"  I'm  afraid  your  Highness  will  have  to  wait  or 
ask  one  of  us  to  take  your  message,"  said  Graham. 
"  Would  you  condescend  to  divulge  its  import  to  one 
of  us?" 

"  I  must  tell  it  to  the  Earl  of  Loudoun  himself," 
said  the  boy.  "  That's  who  I  was  to  give  it  to,  an' 
I  won't  give  it  to  nobody  else." 

"  A  determined  character,  I  see,"  said  Graham. 
"  Well,  determination  is  the  quality  such  important 
personages  as  your  Highness  need  most.  Doubtless 
your  Highness  is  worried  by  great  responsibilities, 
and  a  little  of  this  noble  brew  will  relieve  you  of  your 
cares.     Drink  a  toast  with  us,  general." 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  do,"  said  the  boy,  turning  his 
gaze  upon  the  great  punchbowl.  "  That  looks  pretty 
good  for  a  dry  throat." 

"  A  most  miraculous  cure  for  all  such,"  said 
Graham.  "  Brother  officers  and  gentlemen,  join  us 
in  a  toast  to  our  new  and  distmguished  comrade !  " 

The  glasses  were  filled,  and  then  in  a  twinkling 
each  was  emptied.  The  boy  drained  his  at  a  draught. 
Then  he  handed  it  back  to  Graham,  and  said  in  his 
unchanging  drawl: 

**  That  was  pretty  good,  an'  no  mistake.  Fill  it 
up  ag'in,  stranger." 

Graham   obeyed   willingly.     The  boy  drank  the 


THE   FASHION    OF   NEW    YORK. 


39 


glassful  again,  and  winked  not  an  eye.  Nor  did  the 
slightest  flush  come  into  his  face. 

"  You  are  worthy  to  be  an  officer  indeed,"  said 
Graham,  tendering  him  a  third  glassful.  I  saw  that 
Graham's  plan  was  to  get  him  into  a  state  of  intoxica- 
tion, in  order  that  this  country  lad  might  make  mirth 
for  some  idle  officers.  I  felt  like  interfering,  but  there 
was  such  a  chorus  of  approval  around  Graham  that  I 
hung  hick. 

"  Take  another,"  said  Graham. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  the  boy,  "  if  you  fellows  will 
drink  with  me.  It's  not  manners  to  drink  by  your- 
self." 

The  officers  drank  with  him,  but  when  he  had 
drained  a  fourth  glass  too,  they  could  not  bear  him 
company  any  longer.  Their  eyes  were  sparkling  and 
their  faces  flushed,  but  his  countenance  was  unchanged. 
When  he  put  down  his  glass  the  last  time,  he  looked 
stolidly  around  and  again  repeated: 

"  I  want  to  see  the  Earl  of  Loud  "»un." 

*'  You  can't,"  said  Graham. 

"  I've  got  to  see  him,"  said  the  boy.  "  I've  got  to 
see  the  earl  himself,  an'  I'm  not  goin'  away  till  I've 
seen  him." 

He  spoke  in  such  a  positive  manner  that  his  words 
made  some  impression. 

"  He  may  really  have  a  message  of  importance;'* 
said  a  major,  who  was  the  eldest  and  staidest  of  the 
party.    ''  1  think  I  shall  tell  the  earl  of  him." 

He  left  the  room  to  find  the  earl,  and  Culverhouse 
and  I,  led  by  curiosity,  followed  to  see  to  what  end 
the  matter  would  come. 

We  found  the  earl  in  the  same  high  humor.  One 
of  the  dances  had  just  come  to  a  conclusion,  and  he 
was  sitting  on  his  makeshift  throne  surrounded  by  a 
worshipful  party,  in  which  were  Mr.  Arthur  and  Mill- 


f  .-"I 


40 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


'i}\i 


h., 


wood,  the  sleek  contractor.  The  major  approached 
him,  and  saluted  in  a  military  manner. 

"What  is  it,  Calthorpe?"  asked  the  earl  p^ood- 
humoredly.  "  Why  do  you  pull  a  long  face  on  a  night 
of  gayety  Hke  this?" 

"  I  have  a  message,  your  lordship,"  said  the  major, 
bowing  deeply,  "  or  rather  there  is  some  one  without 
who  insists  that  he  has  a  message  for  you  of  such 
importance  that  he  will  deliver  it  to  you  only." 

"Business?"  said  the  earl,  frowning.  "I  do  not 
care  to  turn  my  mind  to  such  discussions  to-night. 
It  would  not  be  gallant  or  courteous  to  our  host.  Let 
these  matters  wait  until  to-morrow." 

"  But  the  messenger  is  marked  by  such  ecc  atrici- 
ties  of  person,  and  seemed  so  earnest  of  manner,  that 
I  felt  it  my  duty  to  come  to  you  and  tell  you  of  him," 
said  Major  Calthorpe. 

"Of  a  queer  cast,  is  he?"  said  the  earl,  showing 
some  curiosity.  "  Tell  me  of  this  person  whose  affairs 
are  of  such  importance  that  the  world  must  cease  to 
roll  until  he  describes  them." 

The  major  gave  an  account  of  the  boy  and  his 
actions.  This  piqued  the  earl's  curiosity,  and  he  gave 
order  that  the  messenger  be  brought  before  him.  The 
major  returned  in  a  moment  with  the  lad,  followed  by 
a  crowd  of  officers. 

The  earl  fell  to  laughing  as  soon  as  he  saw  the 
messenger,  whom  he  did  not  recognize,  for  he  had 
seen  him  but  faintly  at  the  water  side. 

"  You  are  right,  major,"  he  said;  "  he  is  a  person 
of  some  eccentricities  of  manner  and  appearance.  I 
am  glad  that  you  brought  him.  We  may  have  some- 
thing amusing  here. — What  is  your  name,  my  lad?" 

"  Zebedee  Crane,"  replied  the  boy,  not  seeming  to 
be  in  the  least  dazzled  by  the  lights  and  the  people  in 
their  splendid  apparel. 


THE    FASHION    OF   NEW    YORK. 


41 


"  The  last  name  befits  you  if  the  first  does  not," 
said  the  earl,  still  laughing.     "Where  do  you  live?" 

"  Up  the  Mohawk  Valley,  when  I'm  to  home,"  re- 
plied the  boy. 

"  Evidently  you  are  not  '  to  home '  now,"  said  the 
earl,  and  all  the  sycophants  laughed.  "  You  are  not 
familiar  with  such  sights  as  this,  are  you?" 

The  earl  had  taken  wine  in  the  course  of  the  even- 
ing, and  was  bent  upon  sport.  But  Zebedee  Crane's 
face  remained  stolid.  He  replied  merely  that  it  was 
all  mighty  fine. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  be  an  officer  like  these  gen- 
tlemen here,"  asked  the  earl,  "  and  dance  with  us  to- 
night? " 

"  I  didn't  come  here  for  that,"  said  the  boy.  **  I 
came  to  see  the  Earl  of  Loudoun." 

"  Well,  what  is  this  matter  which  is  of  such  weight 
that  you  can  tell  it  to  me  alone?  "  said  the  earl  in  some 
vexation  at  the  unconscious  rebuke  of  his  childish- 


ness. 


"  Are  you  the  Earl  of  Loudoun?"  asked  the  boy 
cautiously. 

"  I  am,"  said  the  earl.  "  I  think  that  some  of  my 
friends  here  can  vouch  for  my  identity." 

"  In  good  truth  we  can,"  said  Mr.  Arthur  pomp- 
ously.— "  Boy,  this  is  the  Earl  of  Loudoun,  com- 
mander in  chief  of  the  royal  forces  in  America." 

'*  Then,"  said  Zebedee,  "  if  you  are  the  Earl  of  Lou- 
doun, I've  brought  news  from  General  Webb  for  you." 

The  earl  uttered  an  exclamation,  and  there  was  a 
murmur  of  voices  and  moving  of  feet  in  the  crowd 
which  had  gathered  around  to  see  the  sport  with  the 
boy.  All  of  them  had  been  infected  by  Loudoun's 
sanguine  predictions  of  news  from  Webb  that  he  had 
avenged  William  Henry  and  chased  Montcalm  back 
into  Canada. 


42 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


mi 


hi' 

Iff" 
i' 


M 


i; 


"  Then  you  may  be  a  more  welcome  messenger 
than  I  thought,"  said  the  earl,  "  What  fine  victory 
has  Webb  gained  for  us?  What  noble  revenge  has  he 
taken  for  the  disaster  at  William  Henry?" 

"  I  don't  know  anythin'  about  victories  and  re- 
venges," said  Zeb,  "  but  they  say  Webb  ain't  overfond 
of  fightin'.  Anyhow,  he's  quit,  nearly  all  his  army 
has  gone  home,  an'  Montcalm  and  his  Indians  are 
marchin'  on  Albany  they  say,  and  maybe  they'll  be  here 
in  New  York,  too,  pretty  soon." 

"  What!  "  exclaimed  Loudoun,  pallor  replacing  the 
flush  on  his  cheek.    "  What  do  you  say?    It's  a  lie! " 

"  'Tain't  no  lie  either,"  said  Zebedee  calmly. 
*'  Leastways  when  I  left  I  saw  the  troops  goin'  home, 
whole  companies  an'  regiments  of  'em,  an'  I  saw  the 
settlers  in  wagons,  on  horses,  and  walkin',  goin'  to  Al- 
bany as  fast  as  they  could  to  save  their  scalps  from 
Montcalm's  men." 

The  band  had  begun  to  play  again,  and  some  of 
the  partners  were  taking  their  places  for  the  dance. 

"  Stop  that  noise! "  said  the  earl  angrily,  and  in  a 
moment  we  heard  only  the  heavy  breathing  of  people 
dreading  to  hear  evil  news. 

"  I  don't  believe  this,"  began  the  earl  in  a  high 
voice;  "  it  is  all  a  lie,  the  concoction  of  a  weak-minded 
boy.  I'll  have  you  whipped  in  the  stocks,  sir,  for 
bringing  such  falsehoods  here ! " 

"  'Tain't  worth  while,"  said  Zebedee,  undisturbed. 
**  I'm  the  messenger  of  General  Webb  himself.  Here's 
his  letter  for  you,  tellin'  all  that's  been  done,  I  guess." 

He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  coat  and  drew  out  a 
piece  of  paper.  The  earl  read  it,  and  his  chin  dropped. 
There  was  no  need  then  for  him  to  read  it  to  us. 

As  we  stood  there  in  the  ballroom,  Martin  Groot 
thrust  his  grim  face  in  between  Culverhouse  and  me, 
and  said: 


THE    FASHION    OF    NEW    YORK. 


43 


"  Montcalm  knows  how  to  make  fine  music,  too, 
but  his  tunes  are  not  like  ours." 

There  was  a  great  hum  in  thf  ballroom  at  this 
disastrous  news,  following-  so  closely  upon  the  cap- 
ture of  William  Henry  and  the  massacre  of  our  people 
llicre.  The  thing  was  on  everybody's  tongue,  and  even 
in  the  presence  of  the  earl  himself  many  bitter  words 
were  said  about  his  slothfulncss  and  incompetency, 
which  had  left  all  our  border  open  to  the  inroads  of  the 
French  and  the  scalping  knives  of  their  savage  allies. 
And  there  was  terror,  too,  among  the  women,  who  ex- 
pected to  hear  next  that  Albany  had  fallen  and  Mont- 
calm with  a  great  army  was  in  full  march  on  New 
York. 

"  The  English  will  redeem  themselves,"  I  heard 
Governor  de  Lancey  say  to  a  group  of  men  in  the 
corner  of  the  room. 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  William  Livingston  curtly, 
"  but  how  will  that  bring  back  to  life  the  scores  of 
Americans  who  are  perishing  daily  under  the  Indian 
toiiiahawk?  " 

These  two  men  were  ever  on  opposite  sides,  and 
each  strove,  like  a  feudal  baron,  to  be  the  ruler  of  New 
York.  Most  all  have  heard  the  old  story  how  they 
met  one  day  in  the  street  and  Governor  de  Lancey 
said  to  Mr.  Livingston: 

"  Will,  you  would  be  the  cleverest  fellow  if  you 
were  only  one  of  us." 

"  I  will  try  to  be  a  clever  fellow  and  not  be  one  of 
you,"  replied  Mr.  Livingston. 

Which,  I  take  it,  caused  no  increase  of  good  feeling 
between  them.  At  any  rate,  on  this  evening  they  stood 
staring  in  icy  fashion  at  each  other,  as  they  must  have 
stared  then,  I  have  only  to  shut  my  eyes  now  and 
see  them  as  they  appeared  that  night — Mr.  Livingston, 
but  little  more  than  thirty,  tall,  very  thin,  and  grace- 


rl 


•i-i 


44 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


fill,  with  a  keen  knife-blade  face;  Governor  de  Lancey, 
older,  broader,  heavier,  and  perhaps  more  imposing; 
both  in  powdered  wigs,  velvet  coats,  great  embroid- 
ered ruffles,  short  breeches,  silk  stockings  of  the  finest 
quality,  and  shoes  with  great  gold  buckles;  very  pre- 
sentable both  of  them. 

Perhaps  they  thought  it  undignified  to  wage  a 
controversy  there  and  then,  and  they  walked  away  in 
opposite  directions. 


CHAPTER  V. 


ENTER   THE   MAJOR. 


There  could  be  no  gayety  at  the  ball  after  the 
j^hastly  news  that  Zebedee  Crane  had  brought.  The 
earl  seemed  quite  overpowered  by  it,  when  he  had  so 
fondly  been  expecting  news  from  Webb  that  he  had 
redeemed  the  disgraceful  d  ister  of  William  Henry 
and  restored  the  fortunes  of  the  campaign.  As  I  gazed 
at  his  blanched  face,  where  he  still  sat  on  his  throne, 
sucking  his  dry  lips,  I  felt  no  sorrow  for  him.  He  had 
idled  and  frolicked  his  hour  away,  and  had  taken  no 
care  to  avoid  the  blow  which  had  been  struck  so  hard. 
All  my  pity  was  reserved  for  our  bleeding  frontier. 

There  was  a  great  turmoil  in  the  ballroom  for  a 
little  while.  Then  they  began  to  put  out  the  lights. 
The  band  had  ceased  to  play  already.  In  the  uni- 
versal agitation  Zebedee  Crane  had  disappeared,  but 
the  fatal  letter  from  Webb  was  still  there,  a  witness 
that  he  had  told  the  truth. 

I  thought  at  once  of  the  de  St.  Maurs.  Such  sudden 
and  terrible  news  would  bring  them  many  frowns, 
for  these  two  were  French.  I  found  the  seigneur  first. 
He  stood  by  the  wall,  his  face  calm  and  immovable, 
though  of  course  he  had  seen  all  that  passed.  But  he 
did  not  show  any  exultation,  and  when  I  spoke  of  the 
news  he  merely  said: 

"  It  is  the  fortune  of  war;  it  may  be  our  turn  next 
to  fall  back." 

45 


46 


A    SOLDIFR    OF    MANHATTAN. 


H 


But  I  knew  that  in  his  heart  he  did  not  think  so; 
that  he  thought  the  French  would  always  advance. 

I  suggested  as  delicately  as  I  could  that  it  world  be 
best  for  him  and  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  to  leave  at  once, 
and  I  offered  to  find  rhademoisdle.  He  assented,  and 
thanked  me.  It  was  well  that  I  sought .  Mile,  de  St. 
Maur,  for  I  found  that  all  our  New  York  girls  were 
withdravs^ing  from  her  presence  and  looking  most 
coldly  upon  her. 

Mr.  Kennedy,  with  the  same  object  in  view,  had 
already  ordered  his  coach.  We  quietly  helped  the  de 
St.  Maurs  into  it,  and  they  drove  away  unnoticed  in 
the  confusion.  Then  I  went  back  into  the  house  to  see 
how  it  all  would  end. 

The  earl  had  roused  himself  from  his  stupor,  and 
with  his  hand  on  his  sword  hilt,  and  a  show  of  bra- 
vado on  his  face,  was  leaving  the  house  surrounded 
by  his  staff.  There  was  a  great  clack  of  voices  around 
him,  which  he  made  no  attempt  to  check.  Culver- 
house  and  I  followed,  and  then  all  of  us  went  out  into 
the  street.  The  news,  spreading  with  a  speed  for  which 
I  can  not  account,  was  known  already  in  t^^c  town,  and 
there  was  a  crowd  gathered  outside.  When  the  earl 
stepped  in^o  the  clear,  cool  moonlight,  two  or  three 
persons  in  the  crowd  hissed.  It  was  not  possible  to 
tell  from  whom  the  hisses  proceeded,  but  all  knew 
for  rvhom  they  were  intended.  But  the  earl  took  no 
apparent  note  of  them,  save  to  raise  his  head  a  little 
more  haughtily.  Then  he  strode  down  the  street, 
the  torchbearcrs  going  in  front,  and  the  swords  of  his 
staff  clanking  at  his  heels.    The  crowd  followed. 

"  It  might  be  worth  while  to  follow  and  see  what 
may  happen,"  said  Culverhouse.  '*  If  I  mistake  not, 
affairs  have  a  threatening  look." 

He  was  right,  for  more  hisses  came  from  the  pur- 
suing crowd,  and  Culverhouse  and  I  strolled  along, 


^^tm 


ENTER     THE     MAJOR. 


47 


keeping  aloof  from  either  party,  but  holding  both  in 
clear  view. 

It  was  evident  that  the  earl  intended  to  return  at 
once  to  his  quarters.  As  he  advanced  the  crowd 
pressed  closer  upon  the  heels  of  his  staff,  and  some  one 
threw  a  stone.  It  is  true  it  flew  high  over  the  heads 
of  the  earl's  party,  as  the  man  who  threw  it  probably 
intended  that  it  should,  but  it  struck  a  board  wall  with 
'a  resounding  thwack.  The  earl  stopped  and  turned 
around. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  in  a  high  voice  to  his  officers, 
"  clear  away  this  rabble!  " 

The  officers  drew  their  swords,  and,  laying  about 
them  with  the  flats  of  the  blades,  soon  put  the  crowd 
to  flight.  In  truth,  the  people  made  no  resistance,  for 
they  had  been' content  with  expressing  their  displeas- 
ure in  such  a  manifest  way.  The  earl  and  his  staff 
passed  on  without  further  disturbance.  Then  we  dis- 
covered that  we  were  not  the  only  officers  who  had 
followed  to  see  what  might  happen.  A  dozen  or  more 
stood  about  in  the  moonlight  discussing  the  affairs 
of  the  evening.  Among  them  I  noticed  Spencer  and 
Graham,  who  were  together.  They  were  only  a  few 
yards  from  us,  and  Spencer's  glance  fell  upon  us. 

"Bad  news  to-night,  eh,  Lieutenant  Charteris?" 
he  said  jauntily;  "but  all  this  will  be  changed  when 
the  regular  troops  reach  the  scene  of  action." 

"  The  regular  troops  seem  to  have  been  of  very 
little  avail  so  far,"  I  said. 

"  I  do  not  understand,     I  think  it  is  our  colonial 
levies  that  have  been  experiencing  these  disasters,"  < 
said  Spencer. 

He  knew  better,  for  I  had  told  him  so  at  the  coffee- 
house. He  raised  his  eyebrows  as  he  spoke,  and  there 
was  something  rasping  in  his  tone. 

"  What  could  you  expect  from  provincials?  "  put 


48 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


j 


\. 


■I 


in  Graham,  who  had  taken  wine  enough  to  upset  his 
balance.  "  When  the  trained  troops  from  the  old  coun- 
try reach  the  frontier,  they  will  scatter  the  French 
and  their  red  friends  as  the  wind  scatters  the  dry 
leaves." 

"  It  was  not  so  at  Fort  Duquesne,"  I  remarked. 

Spencer  flushed  at  the  taunt,  given  the  second 
time. 

"  We  were  surprised  there,"  he  said. 

"  Surprise  seems  to  be  your  customary  condition," 
I  said.  "  You  seem  to  forget,  gentlemen,  that  it  is 
your  people  and  not  ours  who  have  been  directing 
the  aflfairs  on  the  border,  and  that  your  own  leaders 
have  suffered  these  disasters." 

I  think  that  Spencer  would  have  let  the  matter 
pass,  as  he  knew  he  had  begun  the  trouble,  had  it  not 
been  for  that  drunken  Graham. 

"  He  insults  us,  and  he  insults  the  whole  army," 
said  the  Scotchman.  "  Spencer,  I  would  not  endure 
his  words." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Spencer  to  me,  "  that  you 
assume  rather  a  high  tone.  Perhaps  your  criti- 
cisms might  be  weightier  if  your  experience  were 
greater." 

"  It  does  not  take  any  experience  at  all,"  I  re- 
joined with  a  laugh,  "  to  discern  the  faults  of  the  lead- 
ers whom  Britain  has  sent  us.  Their  mistakes  are  so 
large  that  even  the  blind  can  see  them." 

"  You  speak  very  plainly,  sir,"  said  Spencer  angri- 
ly, as  he  put  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword.  "  Men 
who  use  such  words  as  yours  should  be  prepared  to 
prove  them  with  deeds." 

"Oh,  you  can't  fight  him!"  said  Graham  with  a 
drunken  leer.  "  He  is  not  of  your  rank.  You  mustn't 
forget  that  any  officer  who  holds  a  commission  from 
the  King,  even  if  he  be  only  a  lieutenant,  outranks  any 


ENTER     THE     MAJOR. 


49 


officer  who  holds  a  commission  Vom  a  provincial  gov- 
ernment, even  if  he  be  a  general." 

**  For  shame! "  said  Culverhouse,  speaking  for  the 
first  time.  **  That  contention  has  never  been  proved, 
and  it  can  not  be  raised  here." 

"  Without  yielding  the  point,  I  waive  it,"  said 
Spencer.  "  I  consider  it  my  bounden  duty  to  resent 
the  gentlemen's  offensive  remarks,  and  to  demand  the 
satisfaction  which  I  trust  he  is  ready  to  accord  me." 

"  I  am  ready  at  any  time  and  place,"  I  replied. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Culverhouse,  speaking  with 
more  warmth  than  he  usually  showed,  "  it  seems  to  m.e 
that  you  are  turning  a  very  slight  punctilio  into  a  very 
serious  matter.  Surely  this  can  be  settled  without  a 
resort  to  violence.  It  were  better  for  us  to  save  the 
edge  of  our  swords  for  the  French." 

"  And  it  were  better  for  a  King's  officer  to  consort 
with  his  own  people,"  said  the  drunken  Graham,  "  in- 
stead of  making  cause  with  these  colonials,  who  ex- 
pect us  to  fight  for  them  and  to  take  ingratitude  as 
our  sole  reward." 

-  "  If  I  wished  advice  as  .o  the  choice  of  my  friends, 
I  would  go  to  a  better  quarter,"  said  Culverhouse 
calmly. 

But  he  made  no  further  attempt  to  check  the  prog- 
ress of  our  quarrel. 

"  There  is  a  very  secluded  and  pleasant  spot  some 
distance  back  of  the  city,"  said  Graham,  who  seemed 
much  bent  upon  having  us  fight.  "  I  noticed  it  two 
days  ago,  and  it  struck  me  then  as  an  exceedingly 
favorable  place  for  a  passage  at  arms  between  gentle- 
men." 

**  I  am  at  the  service  of  Lieutenant  Charteris,"  said 
Spencer  politely.  '*  As  I  consider  myself  the  chal- 
lenger, it  is  for  him  or  his  second  to  nan  the  weapons 
and  suggest  a  place." 


50 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I  turned  to  Culverhouse.  He  divined  the  ques- 
tion that  was  on  my  lips,  and  before  I  could  coin  it 
into  words  said: 

"  It  will  afford  me  pleasure  to  be  your  second  in 
this  affair,  Charteris.  I  think  I  know  the  place  of 
which  Lieutenant  Graham  speaks,  and  it  will  serve  our 
purpose  well  enough." 

Then  he  and  Graham  drew  aside  and  talked  for  a 
little  while.  Presently  he  returned  to  the  spot  where 
Spencer  and  I  were  standing,  stiff  and  silent,  within 
a  few  feet  of  each  other. 

"  You  are  to  fight  with  small  swords,"  he  said,' 
"  and  you  will  meet  to-morrow  evening  in  the  moon- 
light at  the  spot  Lieutenant  Graham  has  men- 
tioned." 

Both  Spencer  and  I  said  we  were  satisfied  with  the 
choice  of  weapons.  There  was  a  little  more  discussion 
as  to  the  exact  time  of  the  meeting  and  other  arrange- 
ments, and  then  we  parted,  Spencer  and  Graham  going 
to  the  camp  and  Culverhouse  and  I  remaining  in  the 
city. 

Culverhouse  left  me  at  my  quarters  with  a  brief 
good-night  and  a  remark  that  he  would  come  around 
to  see  me  in  the  morning.  When  he  had  gone  I  sat 
down  at  the  window  and  looked  out  upon  the  town. 
I  was  still  hot  and  angry.  Spencer's  superciliousness 
and  the  wine-fed  sneers  of  Graham  had  been  an  ex- 
ceeding annoyance  to  me.  The  affectation  of  supe- 
riority shown  by  so  many  of  the  officers  from  the  oid 
country  was  very  galling  to  us  who  were  colonial 
born,  and  we  were  quick  to  resent  it.  In  this  and  kin- 
dred things  lay  the  seeds  of  the  mortal  quarrel  which 
divided  us  forever  twenty  years  later,  and  not  a  few 
among  us  were  beginning  to  see  it.  My  temples 
throbbed  beneath  the  rush  of  wrathful  blood.  Then  I 
felt  sorry  that  the  duel  had  been  postponed  twenty- 


if ^jj1i  ^7vvmil*^^|v**w*^ ' 


ENTER    THE    MAJOR. 


51 


four  hours.  Why  could  wc  not  have  fought  the  mat- 
ter out  at  once? 

But  as  I  continued  to  look  out  upon  the  peaceful 
town  the  heat  in  my  blood  began  to  subside.  There  is 
something  very  soothing  in  a  cool  night  breeze.  I 
have  noticed  that  men  are  much  more  warlike  by  sun- 
light than  by  moonlight. 

When  I  had  at  last  indulged  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
of  serious  reflection,  my  feelings  made  a  complete 
change.  Then  I«saw  very  clearly  that  I  did  not  want 
to  kill  Spencer  nor  did  I  want  him  to  kill  me.  I  per- 
ceived also  how  trivial  had  been  our  cause  of  quarrel. 
Was  a  sneer  or  two  sufficient  excuse  for  the  taking 
of  life?  Out  of  my  sober  mind  I  concluded  that  it  was 
not.  It  was  the  duty  of  both  Spencer  and  myself  to 
risk  our  lives  for  the  country,  but  the  way  to  do  it  was 
by  fighting  the  common  enemy,  and  not  by  slashing 
at  each  other  with  our  swords. 

These  thoughts  convinced  me  that  we  had  no  right 
to  fight  each  other  when  our  Government  had  equipped 
and  maintained  us  for  its  own  service. 

But  I  did  not  see  any  way  to  escs.pe  with  honor 
from  the  quarrel.  The  challenge  had  been  given,  and 
I  had  accepted  it.  I  must  fight  Spencer.  My  blood 
was  not  so  warm  now.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  a  chill 
current  in  my  veins.  I  was  not  afraid;  that  is,  I  had 
the  will  to  face  death,  though  I  have  the  frankness  to 
say  that  I  did  not  want  to  die.  But  it  is  almost  super- 
fluous to  say  one  does  not  want  to  die  when  he  is  only 
two-and-twenty  and  is  dreaming  of  wearing  a  general's 
uniform  some  day. 

I  had  attained  some  proficiency  with  the  sword, 
a  rather  unusual  thing  in  the  colonies,  for,  as  the  rifle 
and  the  axe  were  the  weapons  with  which  our  people 
had  won  the  country,  they  had  small  time  or  taste 
left  for  the  sword.    Nevertheless,  I  had  practiced  with 


52 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


M 


11 


the  weapon,  and  I  believed  that  in  the  coming  encoun- 
ter I  would  uphold  the  credit  of  our  side  of  the  Atlan- 
tic, in  so  far  as  credit  was  to  be  obtained  from  such  an 
affair. 

I  had  determined  to  go  to  sleep  early,  knowing 
that  there  was  nothing  for  the  nerves  like  a  good 
night's  rest,  and  I  would  need  a  steady  heart  and  hand 
on  the  morrow.  But  sleep  would  not  come  merely 
for  the  calling  of  it.  I  put  out  the  candle  and  lay  down 
upon  my  bed,  only  to  stare  up  at  the  darkness  with 
unwinking  eyes.  New  troubles  came  to  me  then. 
Suppose  I  killed  Spencer!  What  would  my  own  peo- 
ple think  of  me?  The  duel  was  not  so  fashionable 
among  us — at  least,  in  the  Northern  colonies — as  it 
was  in  Britain.  Our  steady  people  frowned  very  much 
upon  it  as  one  of  the  evils  of  the  Old  World  that  need 
not  be  transplanted  to  the  New. 

I  heard  the  watchman  call  "  Three  o'clock,  and  all 
is  well ! "  and  I  answered  him  under  my  breath,  but 
with  anger,  that  all  was  not  well.  Soon  afterward  I 
fell  into  some  kind  of  a  distempered  sleep,  from  which 
I  awoke  unrested.  I  could  not  hope  for  further  sleep, 
so  I  arose  and  went  to  the  window.  Although  an 
officer,  I  had  not  yet  been  required  for  any  regular 
service,  and,  having  no  quarters  allotted  to  me  at  the 
camp,  I  had  obtained  a  room  for  myself  in  the  city. 
It  was  a  narrow  little  place,  but  the  window  looked 
over  the  bay,  and  as  I  gazed  out  with  hot  eyes  I  saw 
a  pale  and  slender  line  of  light  shoot  up  from  the  black 
and  gray  mass  of  the  sea.  It  quivered  on  the  water 
like  a  streak  of  melting  silver,  and  I  thought  for  a 
moment  it  was  the  reflection  of  a  falling  star,  and 
would  fade.  But  new  lines  rose,  apparently  from  the 
depths  of  the  ocean,  and  streaked  its  surface  with 
silver.  Under  the  rim  of  the  eastern  horizon  a  gray 
light  was  showing,  and  the  silver  arrows  which  fell 


ENTER    THE     MAJOR. 


53 


across  the  water  rapidly  turned  to  gold,  and  the 
gray  light  itself  giave  way  before  the  edge  of  a  burn- 
ing disk  which  rose  slowly  and  proudly  from  the 
sea. 

The  eastern  skies  were  spangled  with  gold  as  the 
sun,  coming  up  from  his  night's  sleep  in  the  ocean's 
bed,  shot  his  flaming  darts  in  millions.  The  surface 
of  the  water  became  luminous.  The  sails  of  the  ships 
in  the  bay  showed  white  in  the  clear  morning  air.  A 
polished  bayonet  on  the  wooded  shores  of  Long  Island, 
struck  by  a  ray  of  light,  threw  off  a  flash  and  a  gleam. 
Farther  away  the  hills  of  Staten  Island  rose  up  in 
masses  of  green.  The  huge  red  globe  of  the  sun  now 
swung  clear  of  the  sea  and  crept  imperceptibly  up  to- 
ward the  zenith.  The  heavy  note  of  a  gun  in  the  camp 
boomed  over  the  hitherto  silent  waters,  and  the  day 
had  come  to  life  again. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  heard  voices  in  the  street  below 
me.  The  town  was  awake,  and  its  busy  life  had  begun. 
A  sailor  in  a  foreign  garb  sang  a  song  in  a  foreign 
tongue.  I  knew  not  the  words,  but  it  was  a  joyful 
song.  I  looked  out  at  the  sailor.  He  was  walking 
along  in  the  queer  rolling  fashion  of  the  men  of  the 
sea.  But  b**  was  a  happy  fellow,  and  seemed  to  be  all 
content  *»i..n  himself  and  his  lot.  How  beautiful  the 
world  looked,  flooded  with  the  pure  radiance  of  the 
morning!  How  hard  to  give  it  all  up,  when  one  was 
only  two-and-twenty ! 

But  I  determined  to  cast  aside  such  enervatiiig 
thoughts,  and  when  I  had  eaten  some  breakfast  I  felt 
in  better  mood  for  the  sharp  business  that  was  to  come. 
Culverhouse  came  presently. 

"  Everything  is  ready  for  our  affair,"  he  said.  "  I 
think  it  will  be  a  fine  moonlight  night.  Plenty  of  light 
for  the  swords,  and  the  place  is  far  enough  from  the 
camp  to  prevent  any  interference.    There  will  be  only 


■  li'l 

m 


im 


54 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


Mil 

■(■■ 

u 


five  present — you  and  Spencer,  Graham  and  myself, 
and  an  army  surgeon  who  has  frequently  acted  at 
such  affairs." 

Of  a  certainty  they  had  been  expeditious  enough 
about  it  all.  Culverhouse  went  away  in  a  few  min- 
utes, saying  he  would  meet  me  just  outside  the  camp 
at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  we  would  go  ihen 
to  the  dueling  ground. 

My  presence  would  be  required  at  the  camp  for 
awhile  that  day,  and  accordingly  I  buckled  on  my 
sword  and  walked  tovv^H  the  fields  beyond  King 
Street,  in  which  so  many  of  the  soldiers  were  en- 
camped. As  I  walked  along,  somewhat  absorbed,  a 
heavy  hand  fell  upon  my  shoulder,  and  a  cheerful  voice, 
speaking  very  good  English,  but  giving  a  very  strong 
Scotch  twang  to  it,  bade  me  good  morning,  adding 
thereto  the  remark  that  it  was  a  very  fine  day  for  both 
men  and  beasts. 

I  looked  around  in  some  surprise,  and  recognized 
the  stern-faced  Scotch  major  whom  I  had  seen  in  the 
boat  with  the  earl  the  previous  night,  and  later  at  the 
ball.  He  was  a  tall  man,  bent  just  a  trifle  about  the 
shoulders.  His  ap*^  jarance  was  sufficient  to  tell  any 
observer  that  thlo  was  a  soldier  of  long  and  varied 
experience. 

"  I  am  familiar,  young  man,"  he  said,  "  but  you 
will  charge  it  to  my  years.  They  are  enough  to  stand 
it.  I  saw  you  at  the  ball  last  night,  and  you  seemed 
to  be  leFs  rattle-brained  than  most  of  the  others  of 
your  age  who  were  there.  Your  grave  appearance 
this  morning  when  I  overtook  you  furthered  that  be- 
lief. Judging  from  your  uniform,  you  are  of  the  Royal 
Americans,  is  it  not  so?  " 

I  replied  in  the  affirmative.  Then  he  askea  me  if 
I  had  seen  any  service.  I  said  that  I  had  seen  none 
as  yet,  but  hoped  that  the  time  would  soon  come. 


I 


ENTER    THE     MAJOR. 


55 


{ 


"  The  time  when  we  should  be  seeing  service  is  at 
hand,"  he  said,  "  and  of  a  certainty,  after  the  news  we 
received  last  night,  action  can  not  be  postponed  much 
longer." 

The  old  major's  eyes  snapped  as  he  spoke.  It 
was  quite  evident  that  he  was  no  sluggard  at  his 
trade. 

"  I  believe,"  I  said  respectfully,  "  that  I  am  speak- 
ing to  one  who  has  seen  much  of  the  wars." 

"  I  am  Major  McLean,  of  the  Black  Watch,  the 
Highlanders,  you  know,"  he  said,  **  and  I  have  served 
in  the  King's  army  since  I  began  life  in  it  as  a  drum- 
mer boy  of  twelve.  That  takes  us  far  back,  almost  to 
the  last  century.  I  have  served  in  many  wars  and  in 
many  parts  of  the  world.  I  can  say  that,  lad,  without 
boasting  or  without  adding  a  hair's  breadth  to  God's 
truth." 

I  saw  that  he  had  a  touch  of  garrulity,  but  it  did 
not  decrease  my  respect  for  him.  It  was  the  privilege 
of  age  and  great  labors.  Moreover,  he  aroused  my 
curiosity,  for  I,  a  soldier  who  had  heard  the  cannon 
nowhere,  wished  to  listen  to  the  soldier  who  had  heard 
them  everywhere. 

"You  began  as  a  drummer  boy?"  I  said  insinu- 
atingly. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  the  flash  coming  again  into  his 
eyes,  "  and  I  followed  Marlborough.  It  was  at  Blen- 
heim that  I  first  saw  the  cannon  feed  on  human  flesh. 
Was  there  ever  such  another  victory?  Then  I  was  at 
Ramillies  and  Oudenarde  and  at  Malplaquet.  God, 
but  I  still  see  the  field  of  Malplaquet  sometimes  at 
night,  and  I  wonder  if  the  grass  has  ever  grown  again 
on  that  piece  of  ground  where  so  many  good  English- 
men and  good  Frenchmen  slew  each  other  in  a  dis- 
pute over  a  trumpery  Spanish  crown  that  mattered 
little  to  either.    They  may  tell  you,  lad,  that  tiiC  French 


I 


56 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


are  fops  and  dandies,  and  can  not  fight,  but  do  not 
believe  it.  If  you  want  to  know  about  the  French, 
ask  those  who  rneet  them  on  the  battlefield,  not  those 
who  stay  snugly  at  their  own  hearthstones." 

"  The  colonies  know  too  well  the  valor  of  the 
French,"  I  replied.  *'  We  are  not  prone  to  underrate 
them,  for  we  must  consider  what  has  happened.  But 
you  served  in  many  other  campaigns?  " 

I  was  as  eagqr  as  a  child  to  hear  more. 

"  It  was  the  French  most  of  the  time,"  he  contin- 
ued. "  I  heard  a  sergeant  say  once  that  the  French 
and  English  were  created  merely  that  they  might  fight 
each  other,  and  in  truth  it  looks  sometimes  as  if  it  were 
so.  After  the  peace,  it  being  a  dull  season,  and  hav- 
ing an  adventurous  spirit  within  me,  I  went  to  India 
and  took  a  turn  with  John  Company,  but  there  was  lit- 
tle in  that  save  the  prospect  of  dying  of  the  plague 
in  a  ditch,  and  I  came  back  to  my  own  island.  After 
awhile  it  was  the  French  again.  There-  was  Dettingen 
and  then  Fontenoy.  That  WiS  an  evil  place,  was  Fon- 
tenoy.  The  French  got  the  better  of  us  there,  but  it 
was  the  Irish  who  did  it  for  them,  A  plague  on  their 
disloyal  souls!  But  how  they  fight!  I  remember  their 
vengeful  faces  when  they  crashed  through  our  line  at 
Fontenoy.  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand,  lad, 
why  the  bravest  of  races  should  remain  in  a  subject 
condition,  unless  it  be  that  they  fight  everybody's  bat- 
tles but  their  own." 

I  found  that  he  was  going  to  the  camp  also,  and 
so  we  continued  our  walk  together.  On  the  way  he 
continued  his  narrative. 

"  Before  this  war  began  I  went  back  into  the  High- 
lands," he  said,  "  intending  to  live  a  quiet  and  religious 
life  as  became  my  age.  But  I  found  that  life  in  the 
Highlands  was  more  dangerous  than  life  in  the  low 
countries  when  we  were  fighting  the  French  there.    I 


ENTER     THE     MAJOR. 


57 


had  been  away  so  long,  and  had  been  so  mucli  absorbed 
in  other  things,  that  I  had  forgotten  that  the  favorite 
diversion  of  my  countrymen  was  to  fight  each  other. 
I  belonged  to  a  clan,  and  it  was  my  duty  to  kill  mem- 
bers of  another  clan  whenever  and  wherever  I  could. 
But  the  Government  stepped  in  at  the  right  time  and 
shipped  the  fighting  force  of  both  clans  to  this  coun- 
try, in  order  that  we  might  expend  our  valor  upon  the 
French  to  the  great  gain  and  glory  of  his  Majesty, 
wherein  I  think  that  the  Government  showed  much 
greater  wisdom  than  is  its  wont." 

In  the  short  walk  Major  McLean  asked  me  many 
questions  about  the  French  and  the  Indians,  and  I 
answered  him  as  well  as  I  could.  Though  he  did  not 
say  it  in  so  many  words,  I  gathered  that  he,  like  all 
the  other  officers  from  over  seas,  thought  that  we 
would  have  little  trouble  with  our  enemies  when  we 
really  and  seriously  took  the  field.  There  was  also  a 
certain  patronizing  air  when  he  spoke  of  the  colonial 
portion  of  the  army  which  reached  the  quick.  At  first 
I  was  disposed  to  resent  this  trait  in  him,  but,  upon 
reflection,  I  saw  that  it  was  but  natural,  and  that  time 
and  experience  would  probably  undeceive  him  in  bjth 
particulars.  Nevertheless,  I  realized  to  the  full  how 
unfortunate  it  was  that  the  officers  from  the  mother 
country  should  assume  such  an  attitude,  whether  or 
not  they  intended  offense  by  it. 

When  we  reached  the  camp  Major  McLean  left  me, 
as  it  was  his  purpose  to  call  immediately  upon  the  earl, 
who  wished  to  consult  him  about  the  campaign  for 
which  they  were  now  making  very  hasty  preparations. 
The  major's  great  experience,  the  gravity  of  his  de- 
meanor, and  integrity  of  his  character  made  him  a  man 
of  high  trust  in  the  army,  and  of  a  certainty  the  earl 
could  find  no  better  adviser. 

He  seemed  to  have  taken  a  fancy  to  me,  and  when 


58- 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


we  parted  asked  me  to  call  upon  him  at  his  quarters 
at  the  first  convenient  opportunity.  I  was  rejoiced 
to  have  made  such  a  friend,  one  who  was  a  master  of 
the  arts  of  my  profession.  I  assured  him  that  the  in- 
vitation was  right  welcome,  and  by  no  chance  would 
be  neglected. 


P; 


CHAPTER  VI. 


A   PASSAGE   AT   ARMS. 


My  business  at  the  camp  was  to  report  to  our 
colonel  and  wait  orders.  I  suspected  that  I  would  be 
required  to  remain  there  henceforth,  which,  indeed, 
was  only  fit,  as  everything  indicated  an  early  move- 
ment of  the  army  toward  the  frontier.  My  expecta- 
tions were  fulfilled,  as  I  was  ordered  to  be  at  head- 
quarters on  the  following  morning  and  to  remain  there 
henceforth.  But  for  the  remainder  of  that  day  I  was 
at  liberty  to  do  as  I  chose.  I  felt  a  secret  sorrow  that 
my  leave  of  absence  had  not  been  abridged  at  once. 
In  that  case  the  duel  could  not  be  fought.  Fear  did 
not  enter  into  this  feeling,  I  can  truthfully  say.  I  be- 
lieve it  was  my  better  impulses,  the  conviction  of  the 
folly  of  such  things,  that  condemned  the  affair  in  my 
mind. 

I  strolled  about  the  camp,  noting  the  evidences 
of  haste  and  preparation.  The  men,  English  and 
Americans  alike,  seemed  to  be  very  cheerful.  None 
had  chafed  at  the  delay  and  waste  of  time  more  than 
they,  and  plainly  they  were  full  of  eagerness  to  be  on 
the  march.  The  comparison  :n  the  appearance  of  the 
men  interested  me  much,  and  caused  me  to  reflect 
how  widely  extended  were  the  dominions  of  his  Maj- 
esty, and  what  resources  he  could  summon  for  war. 
There  were  the  English,  fat,  stocky,  and  red-faced, 
and  with  a  fine  girth  of  shoulder  and  chest.  Sluggish 
5         ■  59 


i 

i 


n 


Li 


,  'it: 


6o 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


in  temperament,  but  very  steady  and  enduring,  I  knev, 
because  I  had  read  history.  Then  there  were  our  own 
Americans,  taller  and  thinner  and  leaner  than  the 
English,  but  tougher  and  more  wiry.  At  least,  I  be- 
lieved them  to  be  better  fitted  by  training  and  expei  i- 
ence  for  war  in  the  deep  woods  and  dense  thickets, 
which  was  about  the  only  kind  of  war  that  our  conti- 
nent yet  knew.  In  truth,  I  felt  a  deal  of  pride  in  the 
appearance  of  our  colonial  troops.  There  was  very 
little  sheen  of  brilliant  uniform  and  flash  of  gold  epau- 
let about  them,  for,  barring  the  Royal  Americans,  they 
were  very  plainly  attired,  but  their  steady  eyes  and  sun- 
browned  faces  showed  that  they  were  the  right  men 
for  forest  work.  I  was  well  aware  that  our  allies  held 
us  rather  cheaply,  as  it  is  the  custom  of  the  people  of 
old  countries  to  look  upon  the  people  of  new  coun- 
tries, and  I  could  not  repress  a  desire  that  our  men 
might  have  a  good  opportunity  to  show  their  skill  and 
courage.  I  hope  there  was  nothing  wrong  in  the  feel- 
ing. At  least,  it  might  check  the  growing  antipathy 
of  the  English  and  Americans  toward  each  other  which 
this  attitude  had  caused. 

On  the  outer  edge  of  the  encampment  I  found  the 
Highland  regiment  to  which  my  new  friend  Major 
McLean  belonged.  They  were  but  lately  arrived,  and 
hitherto  I  had  not  had  an  opportunity  of  observing 
them  closely.  I  found  them  to  be  well  worthy  of  ex- 
amination; for  they  were  a  right  wild  and  fierce-look- 
ing lot,  and  they  made  a  gre?t  display  of  knives  and 
of  large  swords,  each  of  which  had  at  the  hilt  some 
queer-looking  basketwork,  evidently  designed  as  a 
protection  for  the  hand.  They  were  packing  their 
baggage  and  cleaning  their  muskets,  and  a  tremendous 
swea'  mg  in  a  strange,  guttural  tongue  was  going  on. 
I  knevv'  it  must  be  swearing,  though  I  understood  it 
not,  for  the  scunds  had  all  the  flavor  of  oaths.    Still, 


# 


A    PASSAGE    AT    ARMS. 


6l 


there  was  no  fighting,  though  I  inferred  from  their  ap- 
pearance that  Major  McLean's  words  about  their  bel- 
ligerent character  were  no  exaggeration  of  the  truth. 

I  was  somewhat  shocked  at  the  garb  of  these  High- 
''^Mders,  or  rather  at  the  lack  of  it.  We  were  not  ac- 
customed in  the  colonies  to  the  sight  of  men  going 
around  on  bare  legs  in  broad  daylight.  Only  a  day  or 
two  later  one  of  these  Highlanders,  coming  down  to  the 
city  on  some  errand  for  his  colonel,  was  arrested  by  a 
constable  on  Nassau  Street  for  indecent  exposure  of 
his  person.  There  was  a  great  fuss  about  it,  and  the 
civil  authorities  and  "the  military  were  arrayed  very 
fiercely  against  each  other.  The  colonel  was  in  a  fear- 
ful temper.  Such  an  act  as  the  arrest  of  his  man  was 
an  unpardonable  outrage,  he  said.  It  was  an  insult  to 
all  Scotchmen,  and  also  to  his  Majesty,  the  King,  who 
had  been  known  to  don  the  Highland  costume  on  cer- 
tain notable  occasions.  But  the  aldermen  of  the  city, 
most  of  whom  had  Dutch  blood  in  their  veins,  wtre 
of  a  high  obstinacy,  and  were  not  disposed  to  yield. 
They  retained  the  prisoner  in  custody,  and  asserted 
that  no  man  should  be  seen  on  the  streets  of  New 
York  unless  his  body  was  properly  clothed.  Any 
exception  was  injurious  to  the  public  good,  and  likely 
to  corrupt  the  morals  of  a  young  and  growing  prov- 
ince. The  Governor  himself  was  compelled  to  be  a 
peacemaker,  and  through  his  intervention  the  unfor- 
tunate Highlander  was  released  from  the  prison  and 
sent  back  to  his  scantily  attired  comrades  at  the  camp. 
But  the  general  opinion  of  our  people  upheld  the  alder- 
men in  their  course. 

While  the  Highlanders  were  very  peaceful  when 
^  came  up,  I  soon  had  evidence  of  the  natural  heat  of 
their  temper.  Two  of  the  men  got  into  a  quarrel  over 
a  tent  pole,  which  it  seemed  each  claimed.  In  a  flash 
they  had  their  dirks  out,  and  I  have  no  doubt  much 


w 


'>'  it 


^ 


i':  V. 


62 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


thick  Scotch  blood  would  have  been  shed  had  not 
Major  McLean  rushed  up  and,  with  many  violent 
words,  forced  them  to  return  their  dirks  to  their 
sheaths  and  go  about  their  business.  A  moment  or 
two  later  they  were  working  together  in  as  friendly 
a  spirit  as  if  they  had  been  born  twin  brothers. 

It  was  while  I  was  looking  at  these  men  that 
Graham  came  up.  I  was  disposed  to  be  reserved  with 
the  man,  as  I  believed  he  had  been  the  chief  cause  of 
the  quarrel  the  night  before.  But  he  appeared  to  be 
greatly  improved  by  the  daylight  and  the  absence  ">f 
drink,  and  refused  to  be  unfriendly. 

"  Delighted  to  see  you,  Lieutenant  Charteris,"  he 
said  in  a  gay  tone,  "  and  doubly  delighted  to  see  you 
here.  The  contemplation  of  arms  and  armies  is  an 
eminently  fit  occupation  for  a  man  who  is  so  soon  to 
test  the  edge  of  his  own  sword." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  both  of  us  to  save 
our  swords  for  our  real  enemies,"  I  could  not  refrain 
from  saying. 

"  I  would  expect  such  a  remark  from  a  civilian, 
and  not  from  you.  Lieutenant  Charteris,"  he  returned 
in  the  same  gay  tone.  "  A  soldier  should  always  be 
happy  when  the  chance  comes  to  use  his  weapons,  if 
not  on  the  enemy,  then  in  a  friendly  and  gentlemanly 
passage  at  arms  with  his  comrades." 

"  And  I  would  expect  such  sentiments,"  I  replied, 
**  from  a  Frenchman,  and  not  from  a  Scotchman,  for 
I  have  been  told  always  that  the  Scotch  are  a  cold  race, 
and  have  a  very  practical  mind."         -^        ,      N:::i  :    ;. 

"  Your  supposition  is  true,  if  we  accept  it  as  a  gen- 
erality," he  said ;  "  but  there  are  exceptions,  and  I  am 
one  of  them.  Perhaps  you  may  ascribe  it  to  my  French 
education,  for  I  passed  four  years  in  Paris,  learning 
swordsmanship,  the  flavor  of  good  wine,  and  other 
accomplishments  which  perhaps  I  had  better  not  re- 


A    PASSAGE    AT    ARMS. 


63 


count.  Consequently,  I  have  acquired  to  some  extent 
the  GalHc  mode  of  looking  at  matters,  and  accept  the 
duel  as  the  arbitrament  of  gentlemen  and  one  of  the 
flowers  of  a  polished  civilization.  I  shall  always  rever- 
ence the  memory  of  my  fencing  master,  Adolphe  la 
Bordais,  a  gentleman  and  a  true  artist  in  his  profes- 
sion. Of  a  family  of  some  blood  and  no  means,  he 
taught  swordsmanship  for  his  bread  and  wine,  and 
that  he  remained  the  gentleman  he  proved  by  often 
meeting  other  gentlemen  on  the  field  of  honor.  It  was 
in  one  of  these  encounters  that  he  fell.  I  was  present 
and  saw  it  all.  He  made  a  false  stroke,  something 
that  he  had  never  done  before,  and  for  which  I  can  not 
account  to  this  day,  and  his  antagonist  profited  by  it  to 
run  him  through  the  chest.  The  poor  fellow  in  his 
dying  agony  said,  '  I  deserved  it;  only  death  could 
punish  such  an  error ' ;  and,  turning  to  his  antagonist, 
added, '  Had  you  not  profited  by  my  bad  play,  I  should 
have  held  that  I  was  forever  disgraced  by  meeting 
you.'  Then  he  died  very  gracefully  and  contentedly. 
He  was  an  honorable  gentleman,  and  an  illustrious  ex- 
ample of  devotion  to  one's  art."  -  ,  . ; 

He  talked  on  in  this  lively  fashion,  and  in  spite 
of  myself  I  foi  id  him  to  be  mightily  entertaining, 
though  I  thought  him  to  be  something  of  a  coxcomb 
and  r  ^tlepate.  He  was  near  the  middle  of  one  of  his 
tales  L  Paris  when  we  came  almost  face  to  face  with 
Mr.  Ar  ur  and  his  daughter  and  a  company  of  young 
officers,  among  whom  was  Spencer.  Mr.  Arthur  was 
in  affable  mood,  though  he  did  not  discard  his  usual 
pomposity.  Long  custom  had  made  that  an  insepa- 
rable part  of  the  man.  ' 

Graham  saluted  them  with  the  grace  and  ease  that 
acquaintance  with  fashionable  life  gives,  and  I  bowed 
very  low  also.  Spencer  spoke  to  us  as  courteously 
as  if  he  and  I  had  no  thought  of  shedding  each  other's 


n ' 


V 


64 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


iiii' 


:fl 


Sl'l 


^;i;! 


blood.  Mr.  Arthur  inclined  his  head  slightly  to  me, 
and  considerably  lower  to  Graham.  But  I  did  not 
mind  the  slight.  Marion  asked  me  presently  if  I  did 
not  think  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  had  looked  very  hand- 
some at  the  ball.  I  said  I  thought  so,  and  I  said  it 
with  emphasis.  Whereupon  she  smiled  that  pecul- 
iar smile  which  caused  me  to  flush  a  little  as  before. 
Then  she  undertook  to  plague  me,  but  did  not  suc- 
ceed, though  she  caused  Mr.  Arthur,  who  thought  the 
conversation  was  of  a  different  kind,  to  bestow  a 
frown  upon  us.  In  a  few  minutes  they  passed  on,  and 
Graham,  too,  left  me. 

My  last  sight  of  Marion  was  when  she  and  her 
father  stepped  into  their  carriage  to  return  to  the  city. 
Spencer  and  all  the  other  gay  crov/d  were  there  to  bid 
them  good  day,  while  I  lingered  in  the  distance,  think- 
ing aboat  my  duel.  -'■'■-"':.  :''-':^:^;'[ 
•  Presently  the  daylight  began  to  fade.  The  •  sun, 
tinging  the  earth  with  fire  as  he  slid  down  the  curves 
of  the  sky,  went  out  of  sight  beyond  the  hills.  The 
dusk  followed  the  sunken  sun,  and  I  saw  the  new- 
lighted  lamps  of  the  city  gleaming  like  an  army  of 
torches.  The  far  hills  of  Staten  Island  crumbled  away 
before  the  encroaching  darkness,  and  night  fell.  In 
time  the  moon  came  out,  and  the  light,  as  had  been 
foretold,  was  sufficient  for  the  duel. 

I  was  at  the  appointed  spot,  back  of  old  Peter 
Stuyvesatit's  pear  tree,  a  few  minutes  before  the  time, 
and  was  the  first  to  arrive.    Culverhouse  came  next. 

"  First  on  the  ground,  eh,  Charteris? "  he  said 
cheerfully.  "  That  speaks  well.  How  are  you  feel- 
ing?" 

He  came  close  and  scanned  me  critically.  Then 
he  put  his  hand  upon  my  pulse. 

"  Very  good!  "  he  said  approvingly.  "  Very  good, 
indeed,  for  a  beginner  at  this  business.    Your  wrist  is 


A    PASSAGE    AT   ARMS. 


65 


Steady  enough  to  handle  a  sword,  and  your  eye  does 
not  show  excitement.  Do  not  misunderstand  me, 
Charteris.  I  have  never  doubted  your  courage,  but 
an  amateur  is  Hkely  to  become  nervous." 

He  carried  two  swords  in  their  scabbards  under 
his  arm,  and  was  preparing  to  show  them  to  me  when 
Spencer  and  Graham,  accompanied  by  a  third  man, 
who  was  the  surgeon,  arrived.  We  saluted  as  politely 
as  if  we  had  met  at  a  ball,  and  Graham,  looking  around, 
said  the  place  was  very  suitable  for  the  sport  in  which 
we  were  about  to  indulge. 

It  was  a  quiet  little  g;lade,  beyond  the  hum  of  the 
camp,  and  hemmed  in  by  high  trees,  though  there  was 
no  obstruction  overhead,  and  the  moon  shone  down 
upon  us  very  brightly. 

Culverhouse  and  Graham  drew  to  one  side  to  ex- 
amine the  weapons.  Spencer  and  I  stood,  stiffly  erect, 
near  each  other.  Neither  spoke;  nor  did  the  sur- 
geon, a  placid,  middle-aged  man,  who  leaned  calmly 
against  a  tree,  and  placed  the  little  case  that  contained 
the  tools  of  his  trade  at  his  feet. 

Culverhouse  and  Graham  seemed  to  be  in  no  haste 
about  their  task.  They  drew  out  the  swords — or 
rapiers  perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  call  them,  for 
they  were  slender,  Spanish-looking  weapons — and  ex- 
amined them  with  great  care.  The  bright  blades  upon 
which  the  moonbeams  fell  glinted  like  silver.  They 
measured  the  rapiers  carefully,  and  saw  that  they  were 
precisely  the  same  in  length  and  breadth.  They  bent 
the  blades  over  their  arms,  and  then  released  them,  the 
tempered  metal  straightening  itself  out  again  with  a 
^sharp  tang.  -'z 

"  They  are  all  right,"  I  heard  Graham  say.  "  Truo 
metal  both  of  them,  and  as  pretty  weapons  as  I  have 
seen  in  many  a  day.  It  would  be  a  pleasure  to  use  one 
of  them  myself." 


li  ■, 


''■  *i 


i'  t 


.:  il 


H 


!  ^: 


1. 1 

it 


i  ^1 


66 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


They  turned  toward  us,  and  Culverhouse  ex- 
claimed: 

"Hullo!  who  is  this?" 

I  looked  around,  for  I  had  heard  no  footstep,  but 
not  ten  feet  from  me  a  long,  slender  figure  was  lean- 
ing against  a  tree,  and  a  pair  of  owllike  and  in- 
expressive eyes  set  in  an  ugly  countenance  were  re- 
garding us.  I  recognized  the  boy  Zebedee  Crane  at 
once. 

"And  where  might  you  have  come  from?"  ex- 
claimed Graham,  annoyed  at  the  interruption. 

"  I  might  have  dropped  from  the  skies,  an'  ag'in  I 
might  have  popped  up  from  the  ground,"  said  the  boy 
drawlingly,  "  but  I  didn't  do  neither,  mister." 

"  This  is  an  affair  of  gentlemen,"  said  Graham.       i 

"Then  I  guess  you  need  me,  mister,"  repHed  the 
boy. 

I  was  forced  to  laugh,  and  Spencer  remarked,  "  He 
had  you  there,  Graham." 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  Culverhouse. 

The  boy  sat  down  on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree,  and 
said  in  his  unchanging  drawl: 

"  I  thought  I'd  come  an'  see  if  you  fellows  fight 
each  other  any  better'n  you  fight  the  French." 

"  You  are  impertinent,  sir,"  said  Spencer.  "  Now 
be  off  with  you!    This  is  no  business  of  yours." 

"  I  think  I'll  stay,"  said  the  boy.  "  It  was  a  lot  of 
trouble  to  come  here  to  see  you  men  chop  each  other 
up,  an'  I  guess  I  won't  go  away  now.  'Twould  be  too 
pretty  a  sight  to  miss." 

"  I'll  try  the  flat  of  a  sword  on  him,"  said  Graham, 
flaring  up.  He  drew  his  weapon  and  advanced  threat- 
eningly toward  the  boy. 

For  the  first  time  Zebedee's  face  expressed  some- 
thing besides  stolid  indifference.  The  upper  and  the 
lower  jaws  swung  apart  and  his  mouth  stretched  al- 


A    PASSAGE    AT    ARMS. 


67 


most  from  ear  to  ear  in  a  grin  as  wide  as  the  Hudson 
River. 

"  Waal,  I  guess  not,"  he  said,  lengthening  his 
drawl.  **  That's  a  pretty  long  blade  you've  got  in  your 
hand,  mister,  but  it's  not  worth  shucks  when  it's  got 
to  walk  up  and  face  this." 

He  reached  down  and  drew  from  his  flapping  trow- 
sers'  leg  an  enormous  horse  pistol,  which  he  cocked 
with  a  sound  like  the  grating  of  a  huge  chain  dragged 
over  stones.    Then  he  leveled  it  squarely  at  Graham. 

"  Good  God,  man,"  exclaimed  Graham,  "  don't 
shoot !    What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  I  mean  it's  time  for  you  to  stop  and  put  your 
sword  back  in  its  place,"  said  Zebedee,  from  whose 
face  the  grin  had  disappeared  like  a  chasm  closing 
after  being  opened  momentarily  by  an  earthquake's 
shock,  "  because  there's  pretty  nigh  a  handful  of  slugs 
in  this  pistol  of  mine,  an'  if  it  goes  off  you'll  be  scat- 
tered all  through  the  woods.  Look  out!  That  right 
forefinger  of  mine  is  mighty  set  in  its  ways,  an'  I  can't 
hold  it  back  sometimes."         ' 

"  Good  heavens,  man,  I'll  stop! "  exclaimed 
Graham,  who  siw  that  he  was  in  real  danger. 

He  returned  his  sword  to  his  scabbard  and  stepped 
back. 

"  That's  right,"  said  Zebedee  complacently.  "  A 
sojer  ought  to  keep  cool." 

"  Put  up  your  pistol,"  said  Culverhouse.  "  No- 
body is  going  to  assail  you." 

"  I  guess  not,"  returned  the  boy.  "  But  while  I've 
got  it  out  I  guess  I'll  keep  it  out.  I'll  see  that  the  two 
officers  fight  fair.    I'll  act  as  a  sort  of  judge." 

His  manner  indicated  that  he  had  made  up  his 
mind,  and  would  not  alter  it.  He  rested  his  pistol  upon 
his  knee,  but  kept  his  finger  upon  the  trigger,  seeming 
to  indicate  that  the  coming  duel  was  to  be  under  his 


k 


■IV  i 


ill 

!  !! 


68 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


M 


t 

1 


supervision,  and  that  if  either  of  us  violated  the  rules 
in  any  particular  the  offender  would  receive  the  con- 
tents of  his  horse  pistol. 

Culverhouse  looked  inquiringly  at  Graham. 

"  We  can  not  permit  anything  of  this  kind,''  said 
Graham.  "  Such  a  gawk  should  not  be  allowed  to  in- 
terfere in  an  afifair  of  hono**  among  gentlemen." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  me,"  said  Zebedee. 
"  I  won't  put  in  if  the  fellows  fight  fair.  Now  go  on. 
I'm  waitin'." 

He  looked  so  formidable  with  his  pistol  that  our 
seconds,  who  had  swords  only,  showed  a  prudent  hesi- 
tation. 

"  Suppose  we  go  on  with  our  arrangements,"  said 
Culverhouse.  "  The  gentleman  was  not  nivited  to 
attend,  but  our  principals  can  fight  just  as  well,  despite 
his  presence." 

After  some  demur  Graham  agreed,  though  he  pro- 
tested that  it  was  very  irregular.  Then  Spencer  and 
I  stepped  aside  and  removed  our  coats.  ^    *;^ 

"  Be  very  careful,"  said  Culverhouse  to  me,  "  and 
do  not  become  excited.  Watch  your  opponent's  eye. 
I  suspect  that  he  has  had  more  experience  with  the 
sword  than  you,  so  pay  the  utmost  attention  to  your 
guard.  Let  him  make  the  assault,  and  when  the  time 
comes  for  you  to  attack  in  return  let  it  be  the  straight, 
single  thrust.     But  do  not  lunge  too  much." 

In  the  course  of  a  winter  that  I  had  spent  in  Al- 
bany I  had  taken  some  lessons  from  a  traveling  French 
fencing  master,  whose  beautiful  sword  play  had  ex- 
cited much  admiration,  and  I  believed  that  I  had  been 
a  rather  apt  pupil.  Nevertheless,  I  thanked  him  for  his 
advice,  which  I  knew  was  given  with  the  best  inten- 
tions. 

Then  Spencer  and  I  took  our  positions,  facing  each 
other  in  the  center  of  the  glade.    The  surgeon  opened 


A    PASSAGE    AT    ARMS. 


69 


his  leather  case,  and  Culverhouse  and  Graham  stood 
by  to  watch  our  play  with  the  weapons.  I  still  felt  a 
very  strong  disinclination  either  to  kill  or  to  be  killed, 
but  my  nerves  were  steady,  and  I  looked  straight  into 
Spencer's  eye.  Our  seconds  handed  us  the  rapiers. 
We  bowed  to  each  other,  Culverhouse  gave  the  signal, 
and  we  stood  ready  for  thrust  or  parry. 

Spencer  feinted  with  his  weapon,  and  then,  recov- 
ering, made  a  quick  thrust.  More  by  luck  than  skill 
I  caught  his  blade  on  mine  and  warded  off  the 
blow. 

"  Englishman  knows  more  about  the  business,  but 
American  has  the  stronger  wrist,"  I  heard  Zebedee 
say. 

Then  for  nearly  a  minute  we  stood  facing  eac!i 
other,  holding  our  weapons  ready,  but  scarcely  mov- 
ing them.  My  muscles  were  strained  and  my  breath 
was  short,  but  my  antagonist  was  in  the  same  condi- 
tion. I  remembered  Culverhouse's  advice  tc  stand 
on  the  defensive.  So  I  stiffened  my  wrist  and  stared 
into  Spencer's  eye.  Presently  he  tried  the  lunge  a 
second  time.  Again  I  parried  with  success,  and  w^s 
quick  enough  with  the  return  blow  to  give  him  a  fillip 
across  the  hand,  which  cut  the  skin  and  drew  a  slender 
red  "thread  of  blood.  Spencer  gritted  his  teeth  and 
said  something  under  his  breath.  For  the  first  time  an 
angry  look  came  over  his  face. 

"  First  blood  for  the  American,"  said  Zebedee.  *'  I 
wouldn't  have  thought  it." 

The  cut,  mere  scratch  though  it  was,  seemed  to 
arouse  Spericer's  temper,  and  he  assailed  me  vigor- 
ously, thrusting  with  a  rapidity  that  compelled  me  to 
keep  an  exceedingly  wary  eye  and  ready  hand. 

Presently  Spencer  made  a  rapid  thrust  at  my  chest. 
I  parried  it,  but  he  came  back  so  quickly  with  a  nasty 
jab  that  the  point  of  the  blade  caught  me  across  the 


J 


i\ 


n 


} '. 


70 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


m 


'1 


idt 


arm  and,  ripping  through  my  shirt  sleeve,  made  a 
long  gash  that  bled  freely. 

**  That  was  a  good  one,"  said  Zebedee.  "  'Twas 
quickness  that  done  it." 

The  flowing  of  the  blood  and  the  stinging  sensa- 
tion in  my  arm  angered  me,  but  fortunately  I  was 
able  to  control  my  temper  and  to  remember  that  cau- 
tion was  my  best  policy.  The  cut  was  not  deep  enough 
to  weaken  me. 

We  fenced  slowly  and  cautiously  for  a  minute  or 
two.  I  thought  by  the  look  in  Spencer's  eye  that  he 
was  going  to  make  another  vicious  attack,  and  was 
not  deceived,  for  he  tried  again  precisely  the  same 
movement  that  had  been  so  successful  before.  But  I 
was  watching  for  this  blo'  and  when  his  blade  flashed 
I  leaped  aside  and  with  nu  upward  thrust  caught  him 
across  the  arm.  As  the  blood  flowed  down  from  his 
arm  he  stabbed  angrily  at  me.  But  my  blade  caught 
his,  and  then  with  a  quick  but  powerful  twist  which 
the  French  fencing  master  had  taught  me  I  sent  his 
sword  flying  into  the  air.  It  fell  to  the  ground  and 
clanged  as  it  struck  a  stone. 

Disarmed  as  he  was,  Spencer  showed  no  lack  of 
courage.  He  faced  me  steadily,  the  blood  from  his 
wounded  arm  dripping  upon  the  ground. 

**  I  have  had  enough,"  I  exclaimed,  throwing  my 
sword  across  his. 

"Enough,  indeed!  It's  too  much  for  both  of 
you!  "  exclaimed  a  loud  voice,  as  Major  McLean,  fol- 
lowed by  a  file  of  soldiers,  pushed  into  the  glade. 
"  This  is  a  pretty  state  of  affairs  when  two  of  the  King's 
officers  are  slicing  up  each  other  with  the  swords  that 
should  be  reserved  for  the  French." 

The  major's  face  was  very  red,  and  his  eyes  showed 
much  anger. 

"  Major   McLean,"   said   Graham,   who  evidently 


A    PASSAGE    AT    ARMS. 


71 


knew  him  well,  "  I  was  not  aware  that  a  Highlander, 
an  officer  of  the  Black  Watch,  had  any  conscientious 
scruples  against  fighting." 

"  Nor  has  he,"  returned  the  major,  "  when  the 
fighting  is  done  at  the  proper  time  and  against  the 
proper  persons.  And  you,  sir,"  he  said,  turning  to  me, 
"  I  thought  you  were  too  sedate  a  man  to  be  engaged 
in  such  nonsense  and  wickedness  as  this!" 

"  I  could  not  honorably  avoid  it,"  I  said  depre- 
catingly. 

'*  It  is  always  honorable  to  avoid  folly,"  he  said  se- 
verely. 

Spencer  undertook  to  utter  some  excuse,  but  the 
wrathful  old  man  abruptly  bade  him  to  be  silent.  He 
ordered  all  four  of  us  to  deliver  up  our  swords,  and 
when  we  had  done  so  he  notified  us  that  we  were  under 
arrest.  I  looked  around  for  Zebedee,  but  he  was  gone 
like  a  ghost. 

Then,  surrounded  by  the  soldiers,  the  major 
marched  duelists  and  seconds  off  to  the  camp. 


l! 


CHAPTER  VII. 


LOUDOUN  S   WAY    OF   MAKING    WAR. 


If 
.III.' 


My  first  sensation  after  our  arrest  was  of  shame. 
The  major's  stern  reproof  reached  the  quick.  Some- 
how I  cared  much  for  the  old  man's  good  opinion,  and 
it  was  mortification  to  think  that  I  had  lost  it.  More- 
over, what  he  said  about  our  affair  coincided  so  well 
with  the  thoughts  that  had  troubled  me  after  the  chal- 
lenge and  before  the  duel  that  I  could  not  persuade 
myself  by  any  sort  of  deceit  that  he  had  not  spoken 
the  truth.  .  • 

We  were  escorted  into  the  camp  as  if  we  had  been 
spies  taken  within  the  lines.  We  walked  along  in  a 
glum  silence.  The  sentinels  looked  up  at  us,  and  an 
officer  or  two  lounging  near  regarded  us  with  some 
curiosity.  Culverhouse  and  I  were  placed  in  one  tent, 
and  Spencer  and  Graham  were  sent  to  another.  What 
became  of  the  surgeon  I  did  not  notice.  A  red-headed 
Highlander  was  ordered  to  stand  guard  before  our 
tent  door.  .    ;  ; 

"  If  they  try  to  escape,"  said  the  major  to  the  High- 
lander, "  act  as  if  they  belonged  to  the  clan  that  is  the 
enemy  of  yours." 

The  Highlander  showed  his  wolf's  teeth  under  his 
red  mustache  and  his  eyes  twinkled.  Looking  at  him, 
I  had  no  desire  to  attempt  an  escape.  Then  the  major 
strode  away,  leaving  us  to  our  thoughts  and  our  High- 
lander. 

72 


LOUDOUN  S    WAY    OF    MAKING    WAR. 


73 


They  had  left  us  a  candle,  which  was  sputtering  in 
a  little  wooden  sconce  that  hung  from  one  of  the  tent 
poles.  But  there  was  enough  light  for  nie  to  see  that 
Culverhouse's  face  as  usual  was  without  expression. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  our  duel  has  ended  for  Spencer 
and  nu'  in  a  manner  that  neither  of  us  expected — in 
the  guardhouse." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  both  of  you  ought  to  think 
an  end  in  the  guardhouse  is  better  than  an  end  down 
there  under  the  clods,"  said  Culverhouse,  flipping  his 
hand  toward  the  earth. 

There  was  good  philosophy  in  what  he  said,  I  was 
bound  to  admit. 

**  You  bore  yourself  very  well,"  continued  Culver- 
house,  **  and  showed  that  you  had  a  good  wrist  and 
eye  for  the  sword ;  better,  in  fact,  than  I  believed  you 
had.  You  don't  mind  my  saying  I  thought  that  your 
life  was  largely  at  Spencer's  disposal,  and  I  was  as 
much  surprised  as  he  probably  was  at  the  result." 

"  I  thank  you  for  a  revision  of  your  bad  opinion," 
I  said. 

"It  was  not  your  courage,  merely  your  swords- 
manship, that  I  called  into  question,"  he  said.  "  Now 
if  you  will  kindly  excuse  me,  I  think  I  will  go  to  sleep." 

He  lay  down  on  a  blanket  and  in  a  few  minutes 
was  asleep.  His  words  had  started  me  on  a  new 
train  of  thought,  and  I  felt  that,  after  all,  I  did  not 
have  much  cause  for  shame.  I,  a  colonial  of!icer,  had 
been  victorious  over  an  accomplished  swordsman  from 
the  mother  country.  As  I  have  said,  we  were  extreme- 
ly sensitive  in  the  colonies  to  English  aspersions  on 
our  skill  or  courage,  and  my  countrymen  of  my  own 
rank  and  station  would  be  far  from  condemning  me. 
That  I  knew.  The  thought  was  so  pleasant  that  I  fell 
asleep. 

The  next  morning  Culverhouse  was  taken  away, 


<  ii 


^i 


i'n 


¥^- 


74 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


! 


I 


for  what  purpose  I  knew  not,  though  I  supposed  that 
he  would  be  released  as  being  less  culpable  than  I. 
Soon  after  he  had  gone  the  villain  of  a  Highlander 
thrust  his  head  in  at  the  door  and  grinned  at  me. 
The  lump-headed  fellow  did  not  speak,  bu<:  indulged 
in  some  amazing  pantomime  which  I  supposed  he 
intended  as  a  description  by  gesture  of  my  arrest  the 
night  before.  I  picked  up  the  wooden  sconce  wliich 
had  held  the  candle  and  threatened  him  with  it.  Then 
he  retired  with  a  grin  so  wide  that  it  led  all  the  rest, 
and  I  caught  an  occasional  glimpse  of  his  bare  and  un- 
symmetrical  legs  as  he  tramped  his  little  beat  in  front 
of  the  tent  door. 

Presently  I  had  another  visitor,  and  this  time  it 
was  Major  McLean. 

"  Major,"  I  said  as  soon  as  I  saw  his  seamed,  brown 
face,  "  grant  me  one  request.  Take  away  that  hideous 
fellow  you  have  put  at  my  door  and  give  me  a  new 
guard." 

"'  Oh,  no,"  said  the  major  with  a  smile.  "  Sandy 
is  just  the  man  for  the  place.  That's  Sandy  McCorkle, 
whom  I  have  known  for  a  generation,  a  most  honest 
fellow,  and  something  of  a  humorist.  That  is  why 
I  put  him  here.  I  thought  he  might  cheer  you  as  well 
as  guard  you." 

"  Possibly  the  Scotch  idea  of  humor  differs  from 
the  American,"  I  said. 

**  One's  opinion  of  humor  is  like  the  color  of  the 
sea,"  he  said.  "  It  depends  on  the  atmosphere.  Your 
atmosphere  just  now  conduces  tc  serious  reflection, 
or  at  least  it  should  do  so.  It  is  a  very  grave  ofTcnse 
for  two  of  our  >oung  officers  to  be  fighting  a  duel 
when  they  ought  to  be  making  every  preparation  to 
meet  the  Frenc  imen." 

"  I  do  not  see  how  I  could  have  done  otherwise," 
I  said. 


LOUDOUN  S   WAY    OF    MAKING    WAR. 


75 


"  Was  it  your  first  duel? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied. 

"  Were  you  not  afraid?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  a  soldier,"  I  replied  proudly. 

"  I  have  known  some  soldiers  who  were  very  much 
afraid,"  he  said. 

To  this  I  had  no  reply  to  make. 

"  You  have  had  teaching  and  practice  with  the 
sword?"  he  said  intf -rogatively. 

I  answered  in  the  affirmative,  though  I  did  not  see 
the  drift  of  his  questions. 

"  You  handled  your  weapon  well,"  he  said  medi- 
tatively. "  That  was  a  peculiar  twist  you  gave  to  your 
wrist  when  you  disarmed  Lieutenant  Spencer.  I  had 
not  seen  its  like  before.    Where  did  you  learn  it?" 

"  It  was  taught  to  me  by  a  Frenchman,"  I  said. 

"  Then  I  wish  you  would  teach  it  to  me,"  he  said 
with  a  sudden  display  of  enthusiasm.  "  It  was  prettily 
done,  my  boy.  For  a  time  when  I  saw  his  fiercf  at- 
tack I  thought  he  had  you,  but  when  y(5u  sent  his 
weapon  whirling  it  was  like  a  turn  in  a  play." 

"  Why,  did  you  see  what  had  happened  before 
that?  "  I  asked  ir  surprise. 

"  See  it?  Of  a  certainty,  of  a  certainty!  "  he  said. 
"  I  could  not  miss  so  fine  a  sight.  On  my  word,  you 
did  well  for  a  j'^oungster.  I  thought  once  I  would  have 
to  interfere  and  make  the  arrests  too  soon.  It  is  a 
pity  to  mar  good  sport.  But  that  turn  of  your  wrist 
decided  it,  and  relieved  me  of  the  necessity  for  prema- 
ture action.  It  was  prettily  done,  I  repeat,  and  I  have 
comt  around  to  wish  you  a  very  good  morning." 

Then  without  another  word  he  departed,  leaving 
me  very  much  surprised,  and,  in  truth,  very  much 
pleased  also.  This  pleasure  was  increased  an  hour  or 
two  later  when  Culverhouse  sauntered  unconce^-nedly 
into  the  tent. 


V-  ■ 


!i#;^ 


M 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


PI 

'■'  i' 


I)     'ill 


»;'  ! 


hi    I .  I 


IS      I 


in  1 


'  Wlint  does  this  mean?"  I  asked  enviously. 
"  Wli'U  a  fine  air  you  have!  Have  you  been  ai>pointcd 
commander  in  chief  in  place  of  the  earl?" 

"  I  suppose  I  could  jfet  the  position  if  I  vvanttvl  it," 
returned  Culverhousc.  '  but  1  am  not  an  aspirant  for 
it.  I  thou£  I  would  ttjll  you  that  you  would  not  be 
hang^ed  or  drawn  or  quartercvi  for  fighting  that  duel. 
In  some  accideptal  way,  for  1  can  not  ascribe  it  to 
your  merit  or  your  manners,  you  have  made  a  great 
friend  of  that  old  fire-eater,  Major  McLean,  and  he  is 
shouting  your  praises  about  the  camp.  Besides,  we 
?re  so  busy  with  the  preparations  against  the  French 
that  our  seniors  haven't  time  to  bother  about  the  de- 
linquencies of  subalterns.  So  if  you  will  make  a  great 
effort  to  be  discreet,  and  to  talk  very  little,  they  will 
probably  forget  all  about  you  before  night." 

I  found  that  Culverhouse  was  a  true  prophet  of 
good.  Late  in  the  afternoon  the  brusque  but  friendly 
major  came  to  the  tent  and  told  me  to  go  about  my 
business,  which  I  was  very  happy  to  do.  No  official 
cognizance  of  the  duel  was  ever  taken,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  now  that,  considering  all  the  circumstances,  espe- 
cially the  known  ill  feeling  between  the  English  nnd 
the  colonial  officers,  it  was  the  part  of  wisdom  to  over- 
look the  matter. 

But  my  good  luck  in  disarming  my  antagonist  gave 
me  quite  a  reputation  among  my  countrymen,  which 
I  sometimes  found  a  trifle  inconvenient,  for  I  had  no 
desire  to  pose  as  a  hero  of  the  dueling  ground.  ,' 

For  some  days  we  v/ere  in  a  great  state  of  bustle. 
An  army,  like  a  woman,  must  make  much  fuss  and 
preparation  before  starting  on  a  journey,  and  the  whoL 
camp  was  in  a  tumult  every  day  from  early  morning 
until  long  after  the  sun  had  slid  out  of  sight  over  the 
hills.  The  generals  and  the  colonels  were  engrossed 
in  consultations,  the  captains  and  the  lieutenants  wer5 


LOUDOUN  S    WAY    OF    MAKING    WAR. 


77^ 


vswearing  at  the  sergeants  and  the  corporals,  the  ser- 
jj\^ants  and  the  corporals  were  swearing  at  the  privates, 
the  privates  wore  swearing  at  the  horses  and  the  oxen, 
which,  being  unahh'  to  swear  at  all,  had  perforce  to 
take  it  in  slu'tice. 

lUit  there  was  a  pleasure  in  all  this  noise  and  work. 
We  felt  that  we  were  doing  something  at  last,  that  the 
enemy  no  longer  had  a  monopoly  of  activity  and  ac- 
complishmenl.  There  was  an  end  to  dumb  sloth,  and 
we  talked  confidently  of  victory  and  glory. 

In  the  course  of  these  aLlJvllifW  i  »«w  something 
of  Spencer  and  Graham.  1  did  not  seelt  iUtiu,  but  in 
the  close  qunrtefs  nf  the  camp  it  was  not  possible  to 
avoid  them.  Spencei  was  stiff,  but  not  discourteous. 
Graham  was  inclined  to  be  more  open.  He  seemed 
even  to  seek  my  friendship,  complimenting  me  upon 
my  success  in  the  duel,  and  asking  many  'juestions 
about  the  colonies  in  a  tone  less  pati u/<|/l//^  /////n  he 
had  assumed  at  first.  Culverhouse  told  me  iiiAi  qe- 
spite  his  faults  he  was  a  guni\  woldler,  aflcj  siicj)  I  ii)mi4 
his  reputation  to  be  in  the  camp. 

We  were  doomed  to  alternations  of  hope  ai^d  dis- 
appointment. The  days  passed,  and  we  were  stil) 
camped  in  the  city.  Ajl  our  bustle  and  our  toil  seemed 
to  come  to  naught.  The  army  was  like  a  wagon  mired 
deep  in  the  nmd.  We  could  not  budge  it.  The  fault 
was  with  the  driver,  Culverhouse  said.  I  knew  that 
he  meant  Loudoim,  and  I  knew  also  that  what  he  said 
was  true.  All  this  time  tales  of  the  bloody  atrocities 
committed  by  the  enemy  on  the  frontier  w^ere  coifiing 
to  us,  and  it  seemed  that  no  real  effort  would  ever  be 
made  to  stop  them. 

>  The  de  St.  Maurs  stayed  on,  for  Loudoun  was  as 
lax  in  the  matter  of  the  prisoners  as  in  other  Tiatters, 
anU  could  not  be  induced  to  act.  I  had  some  oppor- 
tunities for  seeing  mademoiselle,  and  found  her  as 


m 


■W-l 


* 


iM 


m 


78 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


Pi' 


il^, 


I); 

[ii 
U 


superior  in  mind  as  in  appearance.  In  truth,  Marion 
would  twit  me  about  her  almost  every  time  we  met, 
but  I  soon  ceased  to  mind  her  banter,  which  I  think 
had  a  little  bit  of  spite  in  it,  owing  to  the  old  truth 
that  a  pretty  woman  likes  to  keep  all  the  men  she 
knows  at  her  feet. 

About  a  week  after  the  duel  I  came  down  into  the 
city  in  the  lack  of  anything  else  to  do,  and  spent  a 
half  hour  at  the  Royal  Exchange  watching  the  mer- 
chants and  agents,  who  knew  how  to  make  the  most 
of  time,  and  wasted  no  hours.  Martin  Grout  was 
there,  and  perforce  I  endured  his  gibes  at  the  military 
people,  knowing  that  they  were  so  well  deserved. 
Tiring  of  the  place,  I  walked  toward  Broadway,  and  on 
the  way  I  saw  some  boys — and  a  few  men,  too,  for  the 
matter  of  that — following  six  British  soldiers,  who 
were  marching  two  abreast  in  very  precise  style. 
Knowing  that  soldiers  had  ceased  to  be  an  object  of 
curiosity  in  New  York,  I  inquired  of  one  of  the  civil- 
ians why  he  followed  them. 

"  Why,  they  are  going  to  be  quartered  on  Herman 
Snell,"  he  said,  seeming  to  be  surprised  that  I  did  not 
know,  "  and  Herman  says  they  shan't  come  into  his 
house." 

I  foresaw  trouble  at  once.  This  quartering  of  sol- 
diers without  law  or  reason  upon  private  citizens  was 
a  very  sore  subject  with  our  people,  and  Loudoun, 
with  an  affected  contempt  for  the  provinces,  as  he 
called  them,  had  made  himself  especially  offensive  to 
us  by  more  than  once  attempting  such  things. 

I  followed,  though  at  a  distance,  out  of  respect  to 
my  uniform,  determined  to  see  the  end  of  it,  for  I  knew 
Herman  Snell  was  not  a  man  to  submit  easily. 

Snell  had  a  square,  solid  brick  house  on  Broadway, 
and  when  the  soldiers  approached  he  was  sitting  in 
the  open  doorway  smoking  his  Dutch  pipe,  his  ample 


LOUDOUN  S    WAY    OF    MAKING    WAR. 


79 


proportions  filling  up  all  the  passage.  Though  I 
guessed  that  some  one  had  given  him  warning,  he  paid 
no  attention  until  they  had  halted  abruptly  at  his  door 
step  and  let  their  musket  butts  clank  upon  the  stones. 

"This  is  Mr.  Herman  Snell?"  said  the  leader  of 
the  soldiers. 

'  "  Since  you  say  so,  my  friend,  it  must  be  so,"  re- 
plied the  Dutchman,  taking  a  long  whifT  at  his  pipe. 

"Then  it  is  so,  is  it  not?"  returned  the  corporal 
impatiently. 

"  It  is  so,"  said  Snell. 

"  We  are  directed  by  the  commander  in  chief  to 
quarter  ourselves  in  your  house,"  said  the  corporal. 

"  It's  against  the  law,"  said  Snell. 

"  It's  the  earl's  orders,"  said  the  corporal,  who 
seemed  to  be  a  stubborn  fellow. 

"  I'm  no  soldier,"  he  replied,  taking  a  long  whiff 
at  his  pipe,  "  and  the  earl's  orders  don't  apply  to  me." 

The  sergeant  hesitated,  evidently  waiting  for  Her- 
man to  get  out  of  the  way.  But  the  broad-bodied 
Dutchman  remained  in  the  passage  and  smoked  on, 

"Will  you  let  us  in,  or  must  we  come  by  force?" 
asked  the  sergeant  at  last. 

"  This  is  my  house,"  said  Snell,  "  and  you  have 
no  right  to  enter  it." 

The  contention  had  caused  quite  a  crov/d  to  gather, 
and  one  and  all  were  with  Snell.  They  began  to  groan 
and  hoot,  which  incensed  the  sergeant  very  much,  and 
urged  him  on  to  his  task.  He  advanced  as  if  he  would 
enter  by  force,  i  saw  no  way  for  him  to  do  it  except 
by  cutting  down  Snell,  and  I  hastened  forward  to  pre- 
vent bloodshed  if  I  could.  I  asked  the  sergeant  to 
go  away  and  report  that  he  had  been  denied  entrance 
at  Snell's  house.  He  respected  my  superior  uniform, 
but  insisted  upon  obedience  to  his  orders. 

I  had  drawn  him  down  the  steps  that  I  might  talk 


i 


I 

')',' 


r't<!; 


8o 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I  ' 


•I  s 


•1- 


i^ 


to  him,  and  he  turned  again  to  enter,  followed  by  the 
other  soldiers.  A  great  uproar  arose  in  the  crowd. 
Gravel  and  pebbles  were  thrown,  and  I  looked  for  a 
dangerous  riot  when  a  strong  voice  was  heard  de- 
manding jrder,  and  I  saw  Mayor  John  Cruger  push- 
ing his  way  through  the  crowd.  His  appearance  was 
in  the  nick  of  time,  for  the  crowd  could  not  refuse  him 
respect  and  the  soldiers  might  listen  to  him  when  they 
would  not  listen  to  me. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Herman?  "  he  asked  of  Snell, 
who  was  holding  his  fat  pipe  meditatively  in  his  hand. 

"  These  soldiers  wish  to  take  charge  of  my  house 
contrary  to  law,"  replied  Herman. 

The  mayor  looked  inquiringly  at  me,  and  I  ex- 
plained in  detail.  He  warmly  espoused  the  cause  of 
Herman,  who,  he  said,  was  entirely  within  his  rights. 
By  taking  the  burden  of  the  matter  upon  himself,  he 
induced  the  sergeant  to  return  with  his  men  to  the 
British  camp,  and  they  went  away,  leaving  Snell 
smoking  his  pipe  in  triumph  in  his  undefiled  doorway. 

I  heard  of  several  other  such  incidents,  and  they 
were  not  calculated  to  soothe  the  increasing  hatred 
our  people  felt  toward  Loudoun,  who  was  proving 
himself  almost  as  great  a  plague  as  the  French,  with- 
out their  excuse.  It  seemed  that  he  wished  to  irritate 
us  to  the  utmost,  and  to  prove  to  himself  and  his  kind, 
if  not  to  us,  the  superiority  of  the  English  over  their 
American  descendants.  This,  I  take  it,  is  a  poor  way 
of  treating  your  allies  in  war,  and,  as  I  have  said  be- 
fore, led  in  the  end  to  great  consequences. 

Loudoun's  temper  was  not  improved  by  the  sharp 
comments  upon  his  course  which  appeared  from  time 
to  time  in  the  Post  Boy  and  Gazette  and  Mercury, 
where  one  could  see  now  and  then  some  smart  epi- 
grams and  allusions,  the  meaning  of  which  no  one  mis- 
took.   Loudoun  would  foam  at  the  mouth  at  reading 


-^.-^  ..m 


LOUDOUN  S    WAY    OF    MAKING    WAR. 


8l 


them,  so  it  was  said,  and  would  threaten  loudly  to  de- 
stroy the  presses  and  type  and  imprison  the  editors. 
But  he  never  dared  attempt  the  execution  of  his  threat, 
for  the  liberty  of  the  printing  press  had  been  estab- 
lished in  the  great  Zenger  trial,  of  which  all  people 
in  New  York  had  heard.  In  truth,  I  enjoy  a  good 
smart  gibe  myself  In  the  newspapers  when  it  is  at  the 
expense  of  somebody  else,  and  so,  I  believe,  do  most 
other  people.  Several  times  did  I  enter  a  coffeehouse 
to  see  a  crowd  of  a  score  or  more,  some  of  them  most 
substantial  citizens,  all  listening  with  great  enjoyment 
to  the  reading  of  a  newspaper  which  contained  a  joke 
or  pasquinade  leveled  at  Loudoun  or  his  panders. 
Now.  and  then  the  English  officers  themselves  would 
share  in  the  sport,  though  those  things  caused  at  least 
seven  duels  that  autumn  between  Americans  and  Eng- 
Hshmen. 

But  Loudoun  went  on  his  luxurious  way.  The 
report  that  Montcalm  was  advancing  on  Albany 
proved  to  be  false,  and  we  were  saved  that  disgrace, 
at  least.  But  it  was  wholly  true  that  Webb  had  aban- 
doned the  defense  of  the  border.  In  fact,  he  came 
down  to  New  York  and  joined  Loudoun  in  his  dissi- 
pations and  debauciieries.  Every  day  almost  we  heard 
tales  of  awful  atrocities  from  the  frontier,  how  entire 
families  had  been  destroyed  by  the  Indians,  but  Lou- 
doun and  Webb  and  the  army  stayed  on  in  New  York. 
The  two  generals  played  cards  and  drank  wine  at  a 
prodigious  rate,  and  the  city  was  gay  with  concerts, 
theatrical  performances  smacking  much  of  the  wicked- 
ness of  the  Old  World,  assemblies,  balls,  and  all  other 
forms  of  entertainment  good  or  bad  that  idleness  and 
wealth  could  devise.  On  all  sides  it  was  said  that  it 
was  the  gayest  and  most  corrupt  season  ever  known  in 
New  York. 


lUl.ili 


^/ 


i-m. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


A    FEAST   AND   A    STORM. 


It  was  not  in  nature  for  us  who  were  very  young 
to  refrain  from  our  share  in  these  festivities,  however 
much  one  might  condemn  them  as  out  of  place.  In 
truth,  the  only  choice  left  us  was  either  to  join  in  them 
or  mope  alone.  I  did  each  at  times,  and  about  a  week 
after  my  duel,  the  subject  having  been  well-nigh  for- 
gotten in  the  rush  of  gayety,  Culverhouse  came  to  me 
and  asked  me  to  make  one  of  a  party  at  a  turtle  feast 
at  Cotton's  Inn,  on  the  East  River,  a  species  of  enter- 
tainment very  popular  at  the  time,  and  one  from  which 
I  have  often  derived  much  enjoyment. 

"  Only  one  condition  is  put  upon  you,"  said  Culver- 
house,  "  and  it  is  that  you  bring  a  fair  partner.  Every 
one  is  expected  to  contribute  his  or  her  share  to  the 
gayety  of  the  entertainment." 

I  accepted  both  the  invitation  and  the  condition 
with  great  readiness,  and  bethought  me  of  Marion  as 
my  possible  partner  if  I  could  escape  the  vigilant  eye 
of  her  father,  who  seemed  to  be  as  sure  as  ever  that  I 
deserved  watching.  But  second  thought  convinced 
me  such  action  would  not  be  right;  I  ought  to  be 
open  in  all  that  I  did.  I  decided  to  ask  Mile,  de 
St.  Maur,  and  was  glad  that  I  had  come  to  such 
decision. 

Mile,  de  St.  Maur  was  quite  willing,  nay,  de- 
lighted, she  said.    How  could  a  young  girl  to  whom 

82 


iM~r'' 


f 


A    FEAST    AND    A    STORM. 


«3 


the  way  was  opened  refuse  to  take  part  in  the  j^^ayeties 
going  on  about  her?  And  the  seigneur,  whose  posi- 
tion had  grown  most  unpleasant,  and  whom  our  gen- 
erals had  begun  to  treat  in  some  sort  as  a  kind  of 
privileged  spy,  though  it  was  wholly  Loudoun's  fault 
that  he  remained  so  long,  seemed  pleased  at  my  atten- 
tion to  his  daughter,  and  consented  that  she  should 
go.  He  was  willing  for  once  to  forego  his  strict 
French  notions  of  propriety  and  let  her  make  one  of 
the  pafty,  since  Mrs.  Kennedy  was  to  a  company  us 
and  have  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  in  her  especial  charge. 

Mile,  de  St.  Maur  and  I  rode  together  down 
Queen  Street  to  the  rendezvous,  Mrs.  *  Kennedy, 
who  was  not  so  strict  as  the  seigneur,  saying  nothing 
against  it.  As  we  passed  the  houses  of  our  aristocracy 
along  this  fashionable  avenue  I  could  see  more  than 
one  fair  face  at  the  window  gazing  at  us.  I  will  admit 
that  I  felt  a  certain  pride,  for,  as  I  have  hinted  already, 
Mile,  de  St.  Maur  was  no  ordinary  girl  in  ap- 
pearance, and  on  horseback  she  looked  particularly 
well.  I  might  as  well  say  at  ihis  very  point  that  our 
girls  that  season  showed  considerable  jealousy  of 
Mile,  de  St.  Maur,  of  which  they  should  have  been 
ashamed,  for  she  was  in  a  measure  our  guest.  I  had 
heard  of  the  spiteful  remark  made  by  several  that  she 
ought  to  be  in  Quebec  with  her  own  people,  where  she 
belonged.  But  she  was  very  beautiful,  and  women 
are  women  the  world  over. 

The  rendezvous  was  at  Governor  de  Lancey's  ele- 
gant country  seat  on  the  Bowery  Road,  where  we 
found  a  fine  company  of  some  forty  persons  had  gath- 
ered. Governor  de  Lancey  himself  had  just  come 
from  the  city  in  the  great  state  which  was  his  custom. 
It  had  been  an  official  visit  of  much  importance,  and 
he  rode  in  his  gilded  chariot  drawn  by  four  snow-white 
horses,  with  outriders  in  brilliant  livery. 


^1 


rii 


11   :  ! 


84 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


m    i 


|t  ..  i' 


He  seemed  somewhat  oppressed  by  the  cares  of 
state  which  were  weighing  very  heavily  then  upon 
the  important  men  of  the  colony,  but  he  showed  much 
gayety  when  he  saw  us.  The  Revolution  has  come, 
and  we  look  at  men  and  affairs  in  a  manner  sortiewhat 
different  from  that  of  the  old  days,  but  I  shall  lot 
undertake  to  pass  any  criticism  upon  Governor  de 
Lancey.  His  enemies  say  that  he  was  haughty,  arro- 
gant, and  intolerable;  his  friends  say  that  he  was  the 
best  of  comrades,  genial,  self-sacrificing,  and  a  lover  of 
his  country.  All  I  know  is  that  he  was  a  man  of  great 
spirit,  wit,  culture,  and  strength,  and  as  I  was  neither 
an  adherent  of  the  house  of  de  Lancey  nor  of  the  rival 
house  of  Livingston,  but  kept  my  own  counsel  and 
followed  my  own  course.  I  think  I  can  speak  with  a 
fair  degree  of  impartiality. 

He  took  us  down  a  leafy,  shaded  avenue  to  his 
house,  a  noble  structure  of  brick,  three  stories  in 
height.  He  served  us  with  lemon  punch,  showed  us 
his  pictures  and  works  of  sculpture,  many  of  them 
from  the  best  masters  of  Europe,  and  sent  us  on  our 
way,  saying,  with  a  bit  of  a  sigh,  that  he  wished  he  was 
as  young  as  we  were,  and  could  go  with  us  and  enjoy 
the  minutes  as  they  passed,  instead  of  grubbing  over 
dry  orders  and  reports  and  seeking  to  provide  for  the 
future. 

About  half  of  us  were  on  horseback  and  the  re- 
mainder in  Italian  chaises,  a  gentleman  and  lady  in  each 
chaise,  and  our  programme  was  to  take  luncheon  to- 
gether at  noon  at  Cotton's  Inn,  do  some  idle  fishing 
in  the  East  River  in  the  afternoon,  varied  with  teji 
drinking  and  card  playing  at  the  inn  if  we  felt  like  it, 
a  dinner  afterward,  and  then  a  pleasant  ride  home  in 
the  cool  of  the  evening. 

It  was  near  the  close  of  September,  and  it  had  been 
warm  in  the  city,  where  the  houses  are  so  tall  as  to 


A    FEAST    AND    A    STORM. 


85 


shut  off  the  air,  many  of  them  beings  a  full  three  stones 
in  height.  It  hau  been  very  close  and  heavy,  too, 
making  the  breathing  difficult,  but  after  \vc  had  come 
upon  the  Bowery  Road  we  found  a  breeze  blowing 
which  made  it  more  pleasant,  and  the  coolness  in- 
creased as  we  rode  northward  past  the  marshes  and 
meadows  and  ponds  and  outcroppings  of  rock  which 
cover  so  much  of  the  central  part  of  our  island.  Very 
valuable  some  of  this  land  is,  too,  for  farming  pur- 
poses, owing  to  its  contiguity  to  the  city  and  its  easy 
reach,  therefore,  of  a  great  market.  In  truth,  there  are 
many  so  sanguine  of  our  city's  future  that  they  pre- 
dict its  encroachment  some  day  upon  these  farms. 
But,  while  I  am  proud  of  New  York,  and  confi<lcnt 
of  its  increasing  greatness,  I  can  scarce  subscribe  to 
so  much  as  that. 

Mile,  de  St.  Maur  and  I  had  dropped  back 
a  little  behind  the  crowd.  There  was  a  great  clatter 
of  talk  and  flurry  of  laughter  ahead  cf  us,  but  the 
others,  being  fully  occupied  with  themselves,  paid  no 
attention  to  us,  nor  did  we  to  them.  As  I  had  ex- 
pected, Marion  came  with  Spencer,  and  they  were 
near  the  head  of  the  party. 

I  was  acting  the  part  of  guide  and  instructor  to 
mademoiselle,  describing  this  and  that  object  of  in- 
terest, when  a  man  came  out  of  some  woods  at  the 
roadside  and  looked  very  fixedly  at  us  two.  He  was  a 
mean-looking  idlow,  ill  clad,  and  I  thought  his  stare 
impertinent.  I  was  preparing  to  bid  him  begone  about 
his  business  when  I  noticed  a  great  look  of  surprise, 
mingled  with  some  alarm,  upon  Mile,  de  St.  Maur's 
face.  She  gazed  at  the  fellow,  who  returned  her  look 
for  a  few  moments,  then  turned  and  walked  carelessly 
into  the  woods.  _  _ 

"  He  seemed  to  know  you,"  I  said  to  mademoi- 
selle. 


n  > 


l<' 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


s. 


b^O 


4 


w. 


fe 


^. 


t/j 


I  ,  ^  |30     "**         Hi 


I.I 


1.25 


2.5 


-  lis  IIIIIM 


1.8 


^U 


°B 


9 


O/^M 


pi 


hote^raphic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


2J  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEfiSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


ci'^ 


«v 


4^ 


S^* 


^ 


o 


^  ^\^\^ 


^"^2v^ 


^    dp 


^^ 


.  V  ^ 


•  * 


y 

U 

m 


86 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


"  He  does  know  me,  unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken 
in  the  person,"  she  replied  quite  frankly,  "  but  I  never 
expected  to  see  him  here." 

I  was  silent  for  a  little  while.  I  had  some  curiosity 
on  the  subject,  but  ii  was  contrary  to  courtesy  for  me  to 
(question  her.    She  turned  to  me  presently. 

"  You  do  not  ask  me  who  he  is?  "  she  said. 

**  No,  I  have  not,"  I  replied. 

"  Then  do  not  do  so,"  she  said  very  earnestly.  "  If 
anything  should  come  of  that  man's  presence  here, 
do  not  think  that  I  or  my  father  had  any  connection 
with  it.  I  did  not  know  until  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago 
that  h^  was  here,  and  my  father  does  not  know  it  yet. 
We  owe  you  for  kindnesses,  let  us  owe  you  for  one 
more." 

I  do  not  like  mysteries,  but,  looking  into  Louise 
de  St.  Maur's  beautiful  and  frank  face,  and  into  her 
eyes  as  honest  as  the  sunshine,  I  kncA^  that  she  was 
telling  the  absolute  truth.  So,  putting  it  into  as  com- 
plimentary words  as  I  could,  I  said  I -would  believe  no 
evil  of  the  Seigneur  of  St.  Maur  or  his  daughter. 

We  increased  our  pace  and  rejoined  the  others,  for 
we  had  no  wish  to  cause  remark.  Yet  Marion,  who 
was  in  most  becoming  attire,  and  was  perhaps  the 
second  handsomest  in  the  party,  gave  me  several  saucy 
glances,  which  I  endured  with  a  fair  degree  of  equa- 
nimity. Our  girls  still  showed  the  little  jealousy  of 
Ml!e.  de  St.  Maur  to  which  I  have  alluded,  and,  being 
her  cavalier,  I  exerted  myself  *^o  find  her  agreeable 
attentions  besides  my  own,  which  I  hope  were  not  dis  - 
agreeable,  Culverhouse  and  young  James  de  Lancey, 
the  same  who  afterwards  behaved  so  gallantly  in  the 
campaigns,  assisting  me. 

One  holds  the  bright  days  of  one's  early  youth — 
the  days  of  youth  are  not  all  bright  by  any  means — 
in  tender  memory,  and  this  was  one  of  the  brightest  of 


A    FEAST    AND    A    STORM. 


87 


mine.  A  smart  breeze  from  the  East  River  drove 
away  the  heat  and  gave  the  air  the  crisp,  sparkhng 
flavor  of  early  autumn  which  is  so  inspiring  to  heart 
and  brain.  The  brown  foHage  fluttered  and  rustled, 
and  as  we  rode  along  we  caught  glimpses  of  the  river, 
a  perfect  blue  under  a  perfect  blue  sky.  The  war  had 
closed  for  me  for  the  day. 

Cotton's  place  was  very  old.  It  is  said  that  Peter 
Stuyvesant  built  the  house  generations  ago  as  a  place 
for  trade  with  the  Indians,  but  it  had  been  used  many 
years  now  for  turtle  feasts  and  other  such  entertain- 
ments. If  there  was  any  man  who  knew  more  and 
better  ways  thari  old  Ton.  Cotton  of  serving  crab  and 
lobster  and  oysters  and  every  kind  of  fish,  he  was  not 
to  be  found  along  our  coast. 

Our  day  passed  most  pleasantly  and  rapidly. 
Sometimes  I  was  in  the  inn,  partaking  of  the  tea  which 
the  ladies  poured,  and  of  which  I  am  not  overfond, 
and  sometimes  I  was  in  a  boat  fishing  with  Mile,  de  St. 
Maur  or  some  other. 

Toward  evening  the  air  grew  heavy  and  warm 
again.  It  seemed  to  be  full  of  damp,  and  the  clouds 
gathered  fast.  The  sultry  conditions  portended  a 
storm,  and  we  broke  up  our  party  in  a  hurry.  Those 
in  the  chaises  started  first,  and  drove  toward  the  city 
as  fast  as  the  nature  of  the  road  would  permit.  I  was 
assisting  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  upon  her  horse  when 
Marion  and  Spencer  galloped  past  us,  and  bade  us 
hurry  if  we  expected  to  reach  the  city  before  the  storm 
burst.  Mademoiselle  looked  around  for  Mrs.  Ken- 
nedy, but  that  lady  seemed  to  have  overlooked  her 
charge  in  the  confusion  of  the  moment.  At  least  we 
did  not  see  her. 

OflF  rattled  the  chaises^  with  those  on  horseback  fol- 
lowing behind,  and  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  and  I  last.  We 
soon  saw  that  we  had  need  to  hurry,  for  the  skies  were 


tl 


!  'ill 

•ill 


88 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


r 


r  *■' 

f 


blackening  at  a  prodigious  rate,  and  the  increasing 
dampness  of  the  air  betokened  the  speedy  arrival  of 
rahi.  .  t    ■  '.■-/■.'- 

We  became  a  flying  procession.  On  we  went  at  a 
gallop  through  the  fields  and  among  the  woods  of 
maple  and  spruce  and  hickory.  The  air  was  very  close 
and  heavy.  In  the  southwest  the  clouds  were  black- 
est, and  presently  the  lightning  began  to  uash  there, 
followed  by  the  heavy,  threatening  rumble  of  the  dis- 
tant thunder. 

The  approach  of  night,  combined  with  the  clouds, 
created  a  twilight  darkness,  and  the  head  of  our  flying 
column  became  invisible.  Presently  the  southwest 
began  to  moan,  and  I  knew  it  was  the  signal  of  the 
coming  shower.  The  rain  streaks  appeared  across 
the  sky,  and  the  leaves  rustled  before  the  rush  of  wiud 
which  brought  the  rain  with  it.  A  cooling  breath  came 
through  the  hot  air,  and  a  whiflf  of  rain  struck  uy.  I 
saw  a  great  tree  well  foliaged  beside  tlie  road,  and  1 
suggested  to  mademoiselle  that  we  stop  under  it  for 
shelter.  I  shouted  to  the  others  to  stop  there  also, 
but  they  must  have  failed  to  hear  me,  for  vvhen  we 
halted  under  the  tree  we  saw  the  last  ccuple  dis- 
appearing around  a  curve  of  the  road  ahead  of 
us.  "■\^' ■'■'■■■■-^•-    -^    "^  "■^"  ::,v-o  ;'-';^^i-v7:^"';;.^ 

But  I  considered  that  we  were  more  lucky  than 
they.  The  rain  came  with  a  swoop  and  a  dash,  the 
first  drops  pattering  on  the  earth  like  bidlets  and  kick- 
ing up  the  dust  in  little  clouds,  which  the  next  drops 
drove  back  to  the  earth  and  turned  into  mud.  Over- 
head the  leaves  rattled  under  the  shower,  but  we  were 
dry  for  the  present. 

"  They  have  left  us,  mademoiselle,"  I  said,  which 
vas  a  self-evident  fact. 

"  You  have  a  pleasant  life  here,"  she  said. 

"  Yiew  \'ork  is  a  gay  town,"  I  replied. 


A    FEAST    AND    A    STORM. 


89 


"  The  brown-haired  lady,  Miss  Arthur,  is  very 
pretty,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  wondering  why  she  should  take  up 
the  subject,  "  Marion  is  a  very  pretty  girl,  and  she's 
my  kinswoman,  third  or  fourth  cousin,  I've  never  fig- 
ured out  exactly  which." 

"  I've  heard  that  she's  to  be  much  more  nearly 
related  to  you,"  she  said.  "  I  congratulate  you.  Lieu- 
tenant Charteris." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  I  said  in  great  haste. 
"  Marion  and  I  are  old  playfellows,  and  we  like  each 
other  a  great  deal,  but  not  that  way.  Her  father  l.ates 
the  sight  of  me,  and,  besides,  I  think  she  is  beginning 
to  look  with  favor  upon  Spencer,  with  whom  I  fought 
a  duel  once." 

"I  heard  about  that,"  she  said.    "You  disarmed 
him."    ^'       - 
i     "  Luck  more  than  skill,"  I  replied. 

Then  she  turned  the  conversation  to  other  matters, 
but  she  was  very  lively  and  bright.  She  told  me  of 
her  life  in  Canada,  in  Quebec,  and  in  the  country,  her 
education  at  a  convent  in  France,  and  her  visit  to  the 
great  and  fashionable  world  of  Paris  with  her  father. 
I  was  interested  so  deeply  that  I  scarce  noticed  the 
violence  of  the  rain  and  the  increasing  darkness.  The 
water  at  last  found  its  way  through  the  foliage  and 
sprinkled  us  both.  I  suggested  that  we  dismount  and 
stand  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree  for  protection,  but 
this,  too,  soon  failed.  All  the  foliage  of  the  tree  was 
soaked,  and  it  dripped  water  steadily. 

*'  Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "  we  must  abandon  our 
tree  and  get  back  to  the  city  somehow.  Are  you 
afraid  of  a  wetting? " 

"  I've  spent  half  my  life  in  the  Canadian  woods," 
she  said,  "  and  it  wouldn't  become  me  to  fear  a  littlo 
rain." 


90 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


i 


i 


V  ! 


If  it  did  not  become  her,  it  certainly  would  not 
become  me,  and,  assisting  her  upon  her  horse,  I 
mounted  mine,  and  we  rode  on.  The  rain,  instead  of 
coming  in  sudden  bursts  and  puflfs,  had  settled  into  a 
steady  downpour,  which,  however,  was  none  the  less 
wetting.  We  plodded  along,  trying  to  keep  our  backs 
to  it.  Riders  and  horses  were  soaked,  but  Mile.  Louise 
was  cheerful,  and  appeared  to  look  upon  it  as  an  ad- 
venture worth  the  telling  afterward.  I  shouted  several 
times  for  the  others,  but  they  seemed  to  have  gone  too 
far  ahead  to  hear  us. 

The  rain  decreased  presently  and  the  clouds  began 
to  clear  away,  but  we  could  not  see  either  our  com- 
rades or  any  human  habitation.  I  noticed,  however, 
in  the  darkness  that  we  had  wandered  from  the  road, 
and  were  following  a  sort  of  foot  path.  It  seemed  to 
lead  in  the  right  direction,  and  Mile.  Louise  and  I 
whipped  up  our  horses,  anxious  to  reach  the  city 
and  dry  clothing  as  soon  as  possible.  Twenty  yards 
farther  on  the  path  ended  at  a  marsh,  entirely  too  black 
and  too  muddy  to  be  entered.  There  was  nothing 
for  us  to  do  but  to  turn  back  or  seek  a  way  through 
the  woods  at  the  imminent  risk  of  having  our  eyes 
scratched  out  by  lov/  boughs. 

"  This  is  your  country ;  what  are  you  going  to 
do?  "  asked  mademoiselle  with  a  droll  look. 

I  was  lost,  and  I  did  not  like  to  confess  it,  but  I 
knew  that  she  knew  it.  It  hurt  my  pride  to  be  lost 
on  Manhattan  Island,  with  whose  woods  and  hills 
and  marshes  I  thought  I  was  so  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted. I  was  sorry  that  we  had  not  passed  the 
tree  and  gone  on  with  the  others.  The  water  was 
dripping  from  both  of  us,  and  our  discouraged  horses 
hung  down  their  heads  and  breathed  wearily. 

*'  I  think  we  had  better  ride  back  to  the  road,"  I 
said. 


A    FEAST    AND    A    STORM. 


91 


I   I 


Back  we  went,  but  the  roarl  seemed  to  have  dis- 
appeared. The  path  merely  wound  around  through 
the  woods,  and  then  abutted  again  upon  a  marsh. 

"  I  may  have  lost  all  idea  of  direction,"  I  said  des- 
perately, *'  but  at  least  I  have  my  voice  left." 

I  shouted  again  and  again  as  loud  as  I  could,  but 
no  reply  came.  The  water  dripped  from  the  rain- 
soaked  trees  to  the  muddy  earth,  and  the  frogs  in  the 
new  pools  began  to  croak.  I  looked  out  of  the  corner 
of  my  eye  at  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  to  see  what  she  thought 
of  me,  but  I  could  see  no  expression  of  derision  on 
her  face.  I  was  humble,  and  sne  was  considerate.  In 
my  heart  I  cursed  the  old  Dutchmen  who  had  laid 
off  the  cow  paths  through  this  part  of  the  island, 
making  them  twist  and  curve  and  end  nowhere, 
just  as  they  make  their  long  pipe  stems  twist  and 
curve. 

"There  is  one  thing  sure,  mademoiselle,"  I  said 
contritely,  "  this  is  an  island,  and  if  we  keep  on  riding 
straight  ahead  we  are  bound  to  come  some  time  to  the 
sea  somewhere." 

"Suppose  we  try  it,"  she  said. 

I  fixed  upon  the  direction  in  which  I  thought  the 
city  lay,  and  we  urged  our  tired  horses  forward.  We 
were  not  even  in  a  path,  but  splashed  sometimes 
through  marsh  and  then  pressed  through  thick-grown 
bushes.  At  last  I  saw  water  shinmg  through  trees, 
and  I  concluded  that  I  had  misled  my  course  a  little 
and  come  out  on  the  North  River. 

When  we  rode  up  to  the  water,  I  found  that  it 
was  only  a  big  pond,  but  it  brought  my  wits  back  to 
me,  for  I  knew  it.  It  was  the  great  pond  on  the  Rose- 
hill  farm  of  John  Watts,  the  same  who  was  the  brother- 
in-law  of  Governor  de  Lancey.  I  had  skated  on  it 
many  a  time,  and  over  there  beside  it  stretched  the 
post  road.  Beyond  I  could  see  the  long  avenue  of 
7 


>  <  I 


ill 


92 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I    ! 


elm  trees  leading  to  Mr.  Watts's  country  house.  I  had 
found  myself,  and  I  announced  the  fact  joyfully  to 
Mile,  de  St.  Maur,  who,  I  have  no  doubt,  was  as  glad 
as  I,  even  though  she  had  spent  half  her  life  in  the 
Canadian  woods. 

We  had  now  only  to  turn  into  the  post  road  and 
follow  it  to  the  city.  We  were  wet  through,  and 
splashed  with  mud  to  boot,  and  right  ;^lad  we  were  to 
see  the  friendly  lights  of  New  York,  though  we  had 
the  consolation  the  next  day  of  knowing  that  many  of 
our  comrades  had  fared  no  better. 

It  was  somewhat  late  when  we  reached  Mr.  Ken- 
nedy's home  on  Broadway,  where  the  de  St.  Maur's 
were  yet  guests,  but  the  lights  were  still  twinkling  for 
us,  as  Mrs.  Kennedy  and  some  others  who  had  gone 
from  the  same  house  had  arrived  before  us.  The  sei- 
gneur helped  to  receive  us  with  an  anxiety  relieved  by 
our  arrival.  But  I  do  not  think  he  would  have  allowed 
his  daughter  to  go  to  a  turtle  feast  again  without  his 
own  company.  ' 

I  bade  them  good  night,  and  remounted  my  horse 
to  ride  to  my  quarters  and  dry  clothing. 

As  I  passed  the  corner  I  saw  a  man  leaning  against 
the  fence.  The  light  from  one  of  the  street  lanterns 
fell  on  his  face,  and  I  recognized  him  at  once  as  the 
fellow  who  had  startled  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  in  the  morn- 
ing. He  had  passed  completely  out  of  my  mind  dur- 
ing the  day,  but  his  reappearance  in  the  city  aroused 
my  curiosity.  I  had  promised  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  not 
to  concern  myself  about  him,  but  I  thought  it  no  harm 
to  ask  him  what  he  was  doing  there,  especially  as  his 
appearance  was  not  encouraging. 

For  reply,  he  gave  me  an  evil  look,  and  bade  me 
go  about  my  business. 

I  warned  him  that  the  stocks  were  for  such  as  he, 
and  rode  on.    But  I  could  not  dismiss  him  again  from 


A    FEAST    AND    A    STORM. 


93 


my  mind  so  readily.  He  had  spoken  with  a  foreign 
accent,  and,  putting  that  and  Mile,  de  St.  Maur's 
knowledge  of  him  together,  I  concluded  that  he  was  a 
French  spy,  not  that  I  believed  for  a  moment  in  the 
complicity  of  the  de  St.  Maurs. 

I  thought  over  the  matter  much  on  my  way  to  my 
quarters.  I  decided  that  I  would  say  nothing  and 
keep  a  watch  for  the  fellow.  After  all,  what  harm 
could  a  spy  do  us?  There  was  nothing  for  him  to  learn 
about  our  army,  except  what  all  the  world  knew — 
namely,  that  we  were  lounging  our  time  away.  If  he 
could  count  our  numbers  and  find  out  how  many  can- 
non and  rifles  and  pounds  of  powder  and  lead  we  had, 
so  could  any  street  boy  in  New  York. 

Beyond  that  the  general  in  chief  himself  seemed 
to  know  nothing. 

I  was  wet,  and  my  bones  were  stiffening,  but  my 
first  duty  was  to  my  horse,  I  took  him  to  the  little 
stable  in  the  rear  of  my  quarters  and  fed  hirn,  return- 
ing thence  in  order  that  I  might  do  as  much  and  more 
for  myself. 

When  I  came  to  the  front  of  the  house,  which 
stood  a  bit  back  from  the  sidewalk,  I  saw  a  man 
lounging  in  the  street  twenty  or  thirty  yards  away. 
His  face  was  turned  from  me,  but  the  figure  was  not 
altogether  unfamiliar.  I  knew  in  a  moment  that  it  was 
the  man  whom  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  and  I  had  met  in  the 
wood,  the  same  to  whom  I  had  spoken  when  I  left 
the  Kennedy  house,  the  one  who  was  so  much  upon 
my  mind  just  then.  I  had  marked  him  well,  and  I 
was  sure. 

If  I  had  been  older,  less  given  to  the  imagination 
and  impulse  of  youth,  I  would  have  gone  into  the 
house  and  to  bed,  leaving  the  man  to  take  care  of 
himself  and  to  do  as  he  chose.  But  I  did  the  other. 
I  believed  that  this  man  was  following  and  watching 


i^  I 


94 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


n 


me,  and  I  fe!t  a  certain  anger  because  of  it.  Moreover, 
my  curiosity  was  raised  to  a  great  pitch. 

Witliout  hesitation  I  opened  the  gate,  entered  the 
street,  and  walked  toward  him.  But  he  shpped  away 
from  me,  and  when  I  increased  my  gait  he  increased 
his  to  the  same  degree.  Other  people  were  in  the 
streets,  for  since  the  war  and  the  coming  of  the  sol- 
diers ours  had  grown  to  be  an  ungodly  town,  and 
people  were  not  always  in  bed  at  proper  hours.  They 
paid  no  attention  either  to  me  or  to  the  man  whom  I 
was  pursuing. 

The  fellow  led  me  such  a  dance  that  I  was  on  the 
point  of  abandoning  the  pursuit  as  not  worth  the  while. 
I  stopped,  but  he  stopped,  too,  and  looked  back  at  me. 
The  distance  was  not  too  great  to  show  me  when  I 
saw  his  face  that  I  was  right  in  taking  him  to  be  the 
spy,  for  such  I  had  mentally  called  him. 

His  manner  indicated  a  desire  to  lead  me  or,  --♦.nd, 
seeing  ft,  I  was  nothing  loath.  I  could  not  divine  his 
purpose,  but  I  had  sufficient  interest  now  to  follow 
up  the  matter  and  see.  When  I  started  he  started 
also,  and  on  we  went  again.  He  looked  back  pres- 
ently as  if  to  make  sure  that  I  was  following,  and 
then  turned  into  Broad  Street,  walking  toward  its  foot. 
On  the  way  I  passed  old  Peter  Vlieck,  one  of  the  night 
watchmen,  a  big,  heavy  fellow  whom  I  knew.  But 
he  stalked  solemnly  up  the  street,  looking  straight 
ahead  of  him,  in  search  of  what  wickedness  I  knew 
not,  and  paid  no  attention  to  me. 

At  the  foot  of  the  street,  and  directly  in  front  of 
my  man,  was  the  Royal  Exchange,  looking  very  large 
and  solemn  in  the  dusk.  The  open  lower  floor  within 
the  arches,  so  busy,  so  full  of  life  by  day,  was  deserted 
and  still.  Turning  back  one  more  look  to  see  that  I 
was  there,  my  man  left  the  street  and  walked  under 
one  of  the  arches.    This,  as  plain  as  day,  was  an  invita- 


A    FEAST   AND    A   STORM. 


9S 


tion  to  a  meeting,  an  interview,  or  something,  and 
without  delay  I  followed. 

He  had  gone  to  the  far  side  of  the  space,  and  was 
leaning  against  the  brickwork  of  one  of  the  arches. 
He  made  no  effort  to  conceal  his  features,  but,  owing 
to  the  poorness  of  the  light,  I  could  not  see  them  very 
distinctly. 

"  You  have  been  following  me,"  he  said,  *'  and  now 
you  have  overtaken  me.    What  do  you  want?  " 

I  was  not  at  all  sure  what  I  wanted,  or  that  I 
wanted  anything  at  all,  so  I  replied: 

"  If  I  have  followed  you,  you  followed  me  first ; 
it's  merely  making  things  even." 

He  uttered  some  impatient  exclamation,  and  de- 
manded again  my  business  with  him.  I  thought  it 
best  to  keep  cool,  so  I  also  leaned  negligently  igainst 
one  of  the  arches. 

"  One  thing  I  had  in  mind  wiien  I  followed  you," 
I  said,  "  was  to  ask  you  what  progress  you  are  mak- 
ing in  your  busmess." 

"What  business?"  he  asked. 

"  Spying,  seeking  information  about  the  English 
that  you  can  take  to  your  comrades  the  French." 

"  You  guess  well.  Lieutenant  Charteris.  That's 
my  occupation." 

"  It  seems  a  waste  of  energy  and  useless  risk  of 
one's  life." 

"  Perhaps  it  is.  It  was  hardly  worth  while  for  me 
to  come  to  New  York  for  information  about  your 
armies,  but  I  have  friends,  dear  friends,  here  whom  I 
wished  to  see." 

"  Who?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  there  may  be  many,"  he  replied  carelessly, 
"  the  names  of  whom  I  will  not  tell,  but  I  might 
mention,  for  instance,  the  Seigneur  and  Mile,  de  St. 
Maur." 


i 


Wl^ 


96 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


"  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  may  know  you,"  I  replied.  *'  In 
fact,  I  have  every  reason  to  think  that  she  does,  but  I 
have  equal  reason  also  to  think  tliat  she  does  not  like 
you." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  he  replied.  "  I  may 
be  much  more  to  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  and  Mile,  de  St. 
Maur  may  be  much  more  to  me  than  you  think." 

I  dislike  mystery  and  anything^  savoring  of  it. 
Moreover,  the  man's  mannei  was  insulting,  as  doubt- 
less he  intended  it  to  be. 

"  My  friend,"  I  said,  "  I  don't  know  your  name,  but 
I  take  you  to  be  a  spy,  your  own  admission  being 
such,  and  it  seems  to  me  you  are  rather  reckless.  All 
I  have  to  do  is  to  give  an  alarm,  and  you  will  be  seized 
and  hanged  by  Jie  neck  until  you  are  dead,  as  the 
judges  say." 

"  But  you  won't  do  that." 

"Why?" 

"  I  am  the  friend  of  the  Seigneur  and  Mile,  de  St. 
Maur.  My  arrest  would  put  them  in  a  most  serious 
position,  for  I  would  immediately  assert  their  con- 
nivance in  my  visit  here.  You  are  not  willing  to  have 
that  happen,  for  you  are  in  love  with  Mile,  de  St.  Maur. 

I  took  thought  a  little.  It  is  good  to  commune 
briefly  with  one's  self  sometimes. 

"  My  friend,"  I  said,  "  you  charge  me  with  being 
in  love  with  Mile,  de  St.  Maur,  and  your  tone  in  mak- 
ing the  charge  is  that  of  a  guardian  or  some  such  per- 
son. But  a  little  while  ago  another  man  charged  me 
with  being  in  love  with  his  daughter.  To-morrow,  I 
suppose,  some  third  man  will  charge  me  with  being 
in  love  with  his  stepsister  or  his  maiden  aunt.  Am 
I  supposed  to  fall  in  love  with  every  woman  I 
meet?  " 

"  That's  not  my  affair,"  he  replied.  "  Only  I  ad- 
vise you  to  keep  away  from  Mile,  de  St.  Maur." 


A    FEAST    AND    A    STORM. 


9f 


"What  if  I  don't?"  I  replied.  My  anger  at  his 
tone  and  manner  was  rising  in  spite  of  me. 

"  This  may  help  you,"  he  replied. 

Without  a  warning  the  scoundrel  drew  a  pistol  from 
his  pocket  and  fired  at  me.  Instinct  made  me  dodge  as 
his  finger  approached  the  trigger,  and  the  bullet  struck 
the  arch,  though  it  whizzed  unpleasantly  near  me. 

I  drew  my  sword  and  sla.hed  at  him  with  all  my 
might,  for  his  treacherous  attempt  at  nmrder  was 
enough  to  infuriate  even  the  meekest  of  human  beings, 
and  I  did  not  claim  to  be  such.  But  I  only  cut  a  gash 
in  one  of  the  bricks,  for  he  had  turned  with  great 
quickness,  circled  about,  and  sped  up  Water  Street, 
which  was  but  dimly  lighted. 

I  ran  after  him,  but  he  had  the  start  of  me,  and, 
moreover,  proved  to  be  a  swifter  runner  than  I.  I  saw 
in  a  moment  that  unless  overtaken  by  some  one  else 
he  would  escape.  I  hesitated,  and  hesitating  stopped. 
I  had  the  de  St.  Maurs  in  mind.  If  he  were  captured, 
explanations  would  be  necessary,  and  then  he  would 
probably  keep  his  threats.  After  all,  I  had  little  com- 
plaint to  make.  His  bullet  had  njt  touched  me,  and  I 
did  not  see  what  particular  harm  he  could  do  us  in 
New  York,  spy  about  though  he  might  both  by  night 
and  by  day. 

I  heard  excited  voices  and  the  noise  of  approach- 
ing footsteps,  attracted  by  the  shot.  I  made  up  my 
mind  in  half  a  minute.  I  turned  and  ran  back  toward 
the  Royal  Exchange.  Just  as  I  reached  the  nearest 
arch  I  saw  the  burly  form  of  Peter  Vlieck.  He  had 
thrust  his  face  far  out,  as  if  that  would  help  him  to  look 
through  the  dusk,  and  I  knew  he  was  trying  to  find 
the  cause  of  the  shot.  I  rushed  up  to  him  and  seized 
him  with  both  hands. 

"  Thank  heaven,  the  bullet  did  not  hit  you!  "  I  ex- 
claimed.   "What  a  lucky  escape!" 


98 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


V   I 


.^11 


He  recognized  me,  but  looked  bewildered. 

"  A  lucky  escape,  you  say!  What  do  you  mean?  " 
he  cried. 

"Are  you  sure  he  did  not  hit  you?  Do  you  feel 
no  wound?  "  I  cried,  kneading  my  hands  into  his  shoul- 
ders and  pudgy  arms.  "  No,"  I  continued,  "  I  see  no 
wound  there.  And  at  short  range,  too!  What  luck! 
The  city  could  ill  afford  to  spare  such  a  man  as  you, 
Mynheer  Vlieck." 

I  continued  to  feel  for  a  wound,  and  Vlieck  grew 
alarmed.  I  discovered  blood  on  his  eoat,  and  then  I 
discovered  that  I  was  mistaken.  But  his  alarm  in- 
creased visibly. 

"  Have  I  been  shot  at?  Has  somebody  been  try- 
ing tc  kill  me?  "  he  gasped. 

"  An  attempted  assassination ! "  I  cried  in  excited 
tones.  "  One  of  the  boldest  ever  heard  of,  .and  right 
here,  too,  in  the  si  -idow  of  this  palace  devoted  to  com- 
merce and  peace.  But  it  was  like  you,  Myrxheer 
Vlieck,  tc  think  little  of  yourself  and  seek  the  criminal 
even  at  the  furiher  risk  of  your  life! " 

He  straightened  up,  and  his  chest  swelled.  OtI*er 
people  were  arriving  now. 

"  He  s'ood  here  in  the  shadow  of  this  arch,"  I 
continued,  "  and  T  saw  his  pistol  leveled,  but  I  could 
not  warn  you  in  time.  He  fired.  I  ran  after  him,  but 
he  escaped  up  Broad  Street,  and  I  returned,  fearing 
that  I  v*^ould  find  you  dead,  and  instead  I  find  you 
seeking  him  everywhere." 

The  warlike  old  watchman's  eyes  flamed  with  pride. 
He  looked  around  at  the  admiring  crowd. 

"  I  heard  his  bullet  whizz,"  he  said,  "  and  I  con- 
fess that  tor  the  moment  I  was  startled.  But  I,  too, 
pursued  him,  and  I  would  have  overtaken  him  had 
not  my  bulk  unfortunately  interfered  with  rapid  pur- 
suit." 


A    FEAST    AND    A    STORM. 


99 


"Are  you  sure  that  you  are  not  wounded?  Look 
again!"  I  asked  anxiously. 

Two  or  three  of  the  crowd  assisted  in  the  examina- 
tion, and  then  it  was  shown  conclusively  that  the  bullet 
had  missed  him.  As  the  Weekly  Post  Boy  said  in  its 
next  issue:  "The  darkness  made  the  assassin's  aim 
uncertain,  and  our  brave  and  worthy  watchman  was 
spared  for  future  usefulness.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
the  villain  was  one  of  the  lawless  camp  followers  whom 
our  watchr>en  have  had  to  repress  witli  so  strong  a 
handj  and  who  wanted  revenge."  - 

I  left  the  good  Peter  swelling  and  strutting  and 
surrounded  by  his  admiring  friends,  and  went  home 
after  the  dry  clothing  and  rest  that  I  needed  so  badly. 

I  preserved  absolute  silence  about  the  adventure 
at  the  Royal  Exchange,  even  to  Mile,  de  St.  Maur. 
I  watched  for  the  spy,  but  the  days  passed,  and  I  saw 
no  more  of  him. 

A  short  while  later  I  heard  tl>at  the  matter  of  the 
prisoners  had  been  brought  to  a  head  at  last,  and  that 
the  de  St.  Maurs  were  about  to  depart,  going  by  the 
way  of  Albany,  and  thence  into  the  French  lines. 
There  was  nothing  against  the  seigneur,  though  he 
had  been  treated  suspiciously,  and  our  commander  in 
chief  had  to  let  him  go.  I  was  present  when  they  de- 
parted in  their  coach. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "  I  trust  that  you  will  not 
forget  us  when  we  come  to  Quebec." 

"  You  will  come  only  as  prisoners,"  she  said  with 
a  flash  of  French  pride. 

Culverhouse  and  I  and  some  others  of  equal  age 
gave  them  escort  as  far  as  Kingsbridge,  for  we  owed  all 
courtesy  and  protection  to  the  strangers  within  our 
gates,  even  though  they  were  of  the  enemy.  When  we 
left  them  and  waved  them  our  finai  salutes.  Culver- 
house  and  I  rode  away  together. 


lOO 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


lU 


''A  fine  girl  and  a  fine  old  man,"  said  Culver- 
house. 

I  was  silent,  but  in  silence  I  agreed  with  him. 
We  went  back  to  camp   and  the  old  idleness  and 
dreary  waiting.    Thus  a  long  time  passed. 


H- ' 


% 


!•. 


•t:- 


CHAPTER    IX. 


THE   RESULT    OF    A    TRIAL. 


CuLVERHOUSE  and  I  were  roused  one  morning 
from  a  state  of  dejection  by  Graham,  who  approached 
us  with  a  busthng  air  that  indicated  important  news, 
ripe  for  the  telHng.  He  gave  us  the  gist  of  the  matter 
at  once.  Mr.  Pitt  had  become  prime  minister,  and  the 
King's  forces  in  America  would  be  roused  from  dis- 
graceful slumber.  Mr.  Pitt's  name  was  guarantee  of 
that. 

Graham  surmised  also  that  Loudoun  had  let  slip 
his  opportunities,  that  his  day  in  America  was  done. 
This  we  found  to  be  a  very  safe  conclusion,  for  it  was 
soon  known  that  he  had  been  recalled,  and  when  at 
last,  he  departed  he  was  unregretted  by  all  save  a  few 
companions  of  his  pleasures.  Of  his  successor,  Gen- 
eral Abercrombie,  many  had  high  hopes. 

When  these  changes  had  been  made,  there  was  no 
longer  any  doubt  that  we  would  start  soon  for  the 
north.  In  the  bustle  of  preparation  I  met  Marion  in 
the  city.  I  told  her  that  we  would  march  in  three  days. 
She  wished  me  luck,  and  that  I  might  come  back  a 
general,  and  we  parted  like  brother  and  sister.  Marion 
was  a  good  girl,  and  had  little  of  her  father's  sour 
nature.  As  in  duty  bound,  I  paid  my  farewell  respects 
to  Mr  Arthur  also.  In  the  quarrels  that  had  arisen 
between  the  English  and  the  Americans  during  Lou- 
doun's occupation  he  had  become  more  English  than 

lOX 


ill/ 


102 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


i 


I 


-  ii 


m 


i 


ever,  and  there,  was  no  improvement  in  the  feeling 
which  we  held  :oward  each  other.  He  was  very  chilly, 
and  trusted  that  I  would  not  forget  my  duty  to  my 
King.  I  responded  that  I  would  not,  nor  would  I 
forget  my  duty  to  my  colony  either.  My  tone  indi- 
cated that,  while  I  mentioned  the  colony  last,  I  con- 
sidered it  first.  He  understood  it  so,  and  turned 
abruptly  to  his  desk,  resuming  some  writing  upon 
which  he  had  been  engaged  when  I  entered.  So  I  left 
him.  After  many  mighty  heaves  and  false  starts,  the 
army  put  itself  in  motion  at  last,  and  in  time  we  reached 
Albany,  upon  which  we  fell  like  a  plague,  though,  to 
tell  the  tri.th,  a  part  of  our  forces  had  been  there  a 
long  time  c.lready,  and  the  Dutchmen  had  grown  some- 
what accustomed  to  them,  just  as  we  can  learn  to  bear 
almost  any  evil. 

I  knew  mri.ny  people  in  Albany,  and  there  was 
ample  opportunity  to  renew  old  acquaintances.  But 
I  heard  al:  once  of  a  matter  that  amazed  and  concerned 
me  greatly.  The  seigneur  and  his  daughter  had  gone 
no  farther  than  Albany — in  fact,  were  held  there  on  a 
charge  of  conniving  with  a  French  spy  who  had  been 
taken  in  the  city,  but  had  escaped  a  day  later.  I  leaped 
at  once  :o  tlit  conclusion  that  this  spy  was  the  mean- 
looking  fellow  whom  Louise  and  I  had  seen  in  the 
city,  but;  I  was  convinced  as  firmly  as  ever  that  neither 
she  nor  her  father  had  any  part  in  his  actions. 

My  first  purpose  was  to  see  the  seigneur  and  his 
daughter  as  soon  as  possible.  I  learned  that  they  were 
kept  ill  a  kind  of  easy  captivity  at  the  house  of  one 
Philip  Evertsen,  a  fur  trader.  I  had  sufficient  influ- 
ence to  procure  an  order  admitting  me  to  their  pres- 
ence, and  as  soon  as  I  could  obtain  leave  I  started 
to  Evertsen's  house,  near  the  fort  on  the  hill  behind 
the  t3wn. 

Albany  interests  me.  and  even  then,  with  an  anx- 


THE    RESULT    OF    A    TRIAL. 


103 


ious  mind,  I  did  not  fail  to  look  about  at  what  was 
passing.  Nearly  all  our  great  expeditions  against  the 
French  and  the  Indians  of  Canada  have  been  fitted  out 
at  Albany,  and  the  Dutch  people  had  grown  so  famil- 
iar with  the  presence  of  soldiery  that  they  continued 
the  pursuit  of  shillings  and  pence  with  unbroken  calm. 

I  walked  up  the  great,  street  that  ascended  from 
the  river  to  the  fort,  with  its  strips  of  grass  and  its 
busy  life  passing  and  repassing  around  the  guard- 
house, the  townhall,  and  the  churches.  Verily  these 
worthy  Dutchmen  could  instruct  our  own  New  York 
merchants  in  some  of  the  arts  of  trade.  The  Iroquois 
used  to  complain  that  the  Dutch  managed  to  get  their 
furs  from  them  for  nothing,  and  there  were  many 
quarrels  about  it.  I  won't  say  that  the  Iroquois  told 
falsehoods. 

The  evening  was  almost  at  hand,  and  the  day's 
business  was  subsiding.  The  rows  of  curious  Dutch 
houses  on  either  side,  all  with  their  gable  ends  to  the 
street,  and  each  vath  its  grassy  yard,  its  well,  its  neatly 
cultivated  garden  and  great  shade  trees,  looked  very 
thrifty  and  comfortable.  In  the  big  front  porch,  of 
which  each  house  had  one,  the  women  folks  were  gath- 
ering and  talking  from  one  house  to  another  over  the 
dividing  fences. 

The  cows  which  had  been  pasturing  on  the  great 
common  at  the  end  of  the  town  walked  calmly  down 
the  street  as  they  returned  home  in  the  evening,  their 
bells  tinkling  at  their  necks,  caring  nothing  for  the 
presence  of  the  red-coated  soldiers. 

Every  cow  stopped  in  front  of  the  door  of  its  owner, 
and  there  it  was  milked,  the  children  sitting  on  the 
steps,  eager  of  eye,  cup  or  porringer  in  hand,  waiting 
for  their  share.  Truly  the  Dutch,  whatever  may  be 
their  faults — and  they  may  be  much  less  than  those 
of  some  other  people — know  how  to  live. 


I04 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I  heard  the  evening  trumpets  from  the  fort,  and 
the  twihght  was  at  hand  when  I  reached  Evertsen's 
house.  Two  soldiers  stood  guard  at  the  door,  but  my 
written  order  passed  me  in  without  trouble.  By  the 
Dutch  handmaiden  who  received  me  I  sent  my  com- 
pliments to  the  Seigneur  de  St.  Maur  and  his  daughter, 
and  requested  the  nonor  of  seeing  them.  I  waited  with 
eagerness  in  the  little  Dutch  parlor,  for  it  had  been  a 
long  time  now  since  I  had  seen  Louise  de  St.  Maur. 
She  came  alone,  saying  that  her  father  was  taking  a 
walk  with  his  friendly  jailer,  Mr.  Evertsen.  She  was 
as  beautiful  as  ever,  more  so  to  me,  and  when  she  gave 
me  her  hand  she  smiled  so  warmly  that  I  knew  she 
looked  upon  me  as  a  good  friend  in  a  hostile  land. 
I  told  her  of  those  whom  she  had  known  in  New  York, 
and  then  I  asked  about  the  detention  of  her  father  and 
herself  in  Albany.  I  felt  that  I  knew  her  well  enough 
to  put  such  a  question. 

"  It  was  by  order  of  General  Abercrombie,"  she 
said.  "  You  will  recall  the  man  whom  v/e  saw  in  New 
York  the  day  of  the  excursion  and  the  storm.  He  was 
a  Frenchman — a  spy,  as  you  have  perhaps  guessed. 
I  knew  him,  but  neither  I  nor  my  father  had  before 
known  anything  of  his  presence  there.  He  was  taken 
here,  and  escaped  the  next  day,  but  he  remained  in 
captivity  long  enough  to  say  that  he  knew  us.  Since 
then  suspicion  has  been  directed  against  us,  and  Gen- 
eral Abercrombie  has  refused  to  pass  us  through  his 
lines  to  our  own  people.  He  says  he  will  dispose  of 
us  after  he  has  disposed  of  Montcalm." 

Then  she  added  with  a  sparkle  of  patriotic  fire: 

"  A  great  army  is  gathered  here,  and  they  talk  of 
beating  the  French  as  if  it  were  already  done.  The 
English  do  not  seem  to  learn  from  experience." 

"  But  the  French  can  scarce  expect  to  beat  such 
an  army  as  we  have  now,"  I  said. 


THE    RESULT    OF    A    TRIAL. 


105 


The  seigneur  returned  presently  with  Evertsen, 
and  I  found  him  as  proud  and  as  great  a  figure  as 
ever,  but  his  welcome  to  me  was  most  gratifying.  _  He 
made  an  amendment  to  his  daughter's  statement  that 
his  case  was  not  to  be  disposed  of  until  after  the  cam- 
paign, as  he  had  just  received  a  message  to  appear 
before  General  Abercrombie  on  the  following  day. 

I  bade  them  adieu,  much  moved  by  the  injustice 
of  Abercrombie  toward  them,  and  resolved  to  assist 
them  if  I  could  find  a  way,  though  I  was  aware  that 
any  testimony  I  might  give  would  be  to  their  preju- 
dice instead  of  their  favor,  since  I  was  the  only  posi- 
tive witness  that  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  had  known  of  the 
spy's  presence  in  New  York,  and  that  she  had  seen 
him  there. 

Nevertheless,  I  resolved  to  be  present  at  the  ex- 
amination of  the  seigneur,  and  I  set  about  the  task  of 
managing  it,  which  was  not  so  difficult  as  it  might 
have  seemed.  I  discovered  that  General  Abercrombie, 
Lord  Howe,  who  was  second  in  command,  and  some 
other  distinguished  officers  were  temporary  guests  at 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Schuyler,  in  the  meadows  beyond 
the  town,  the  same  Mrs.  Schuyler  who  was  the  aunt 
of  our  General  Schuyler  of  the  Revolution,  and  a  very 
fine  woman,  too,  as  everybody  said  who  knew  her. 

Through  my  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Schuyler,  and 
some  social  influence  which  I  was  able  to  exert  in- 
directly, I  procured  an  invitation  to  take  luncheon 
with  other  officers  at  her  house  the  next  day.  With 
the  lax  methods  of  discipline — or  rather  indiscipline, 
if  I  may  coin  such  a  word — prevailing  among  us,  I 
thought  by  the  use  of  a  fair  degree  of  wit  I  could  pro- 
long my  stay  there  throughout  the  afternoon. 

Upon  arrival  at  Mrs.  Schuyler's  at  the  appointed 
hour  on  the  following  day,  I  was  introduced  to  General 
Abercrombie,  whom  I  had  seen  before,  but  had  never 


io6 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


»1 


III 


met.  We  had  hoped  much  of  him,  and  there  had  been 
great  talk  of  his  valor,  skill,  and  force  of  mind,  but 
the  sight  of  him  was  never  encouraging  to  me.  He 
was  heavy  of  both  body  and  countenance.  His  face 
was  puffed  and  inflamed  with  rich  food  and  drink, 
and  he  had  the  droop  of  an  old  man,  though  he  was 
but  a  year  or  two  past  fifty.  It  was  said  in  Albany, 
so  I  soon  heard,  that  he  was  perhaps  a  trifle  less 
frivolous  than  Loudoun,  but  a  better  hand  at  the 
table. 

"  So  you  are  coming  with  us  to  learn  how  war 
should  be  made,"  he  said  to  me  with  the  lofty  con- 
descension becoming  a  British  general  to  a  colonial 
subaltern. 

I  said  that  I  was,  and  humbly  trusted  that  I  would 
have  some  small  part  in  the  great  events  to  come. 

"  You  provincials  may  do  well  enough  as  scouts, 
guides,  skirmishers,  and  that  sort  of  thing,"  he  said, 
"  but  when  the  heavy  work  comes  I  think  that  we  will 
have  to  trust  to  the  British  bayonet." 

He  took  a  pinch  of  snufif  and  looked  critically 
at  me. 

I  felt  like  telling  him  that  it  was  bad  policy  to  say 
such  things  to  the  provincials,  who  formed  at  least 
half  his  army.  Even  I,  a  subaltern,  knew  the  folly  of 
talk  like  that.  But  then  the  British  were  in  the  habit 
of  saying  them,  although  all  the  facts  were  against 
them,  and  they  did  not  seem  to  care  for  the  resMlt. 

"  I  think,  general,  that  the  lieutenant  will  be  as 
sure  to  do  his  duty  as  if  he  were  born  and  bred  a 
Briton,"  said  a  young  man,  stepping  forward  from  a 
corner  of  the  room,  where  I  had  not  noticed  him  be- 
fore. 

His  interposition  in  my  behalf  caused  me  to  look 
at  him  with  great  interest,  and  my  interest  was  in- 
creased by  his  frank  manners,  his  fine,  open  face,  the 


THE    RESULT    OF    A    TRIAL. 


107 


kindliness  of  his  eye,  and  his  youth — he  was  only  a 
year  or  two  past  thirty. 

It  was  my  first  meeting  with  Lord  Howe,  the  one 
British  general  in  that  war  who  understood  both  Eng- 
lish and  Americans,  was  loved  by  both,  and  who  knew 
how  to  make  use  of  both.  How  diflfercnt  tilings  would 
have  been  years  later  had  all  the  British  officers  then 
been  such  as  he! 

General  Abercrombie  did  not  seem  to  resent  Lord 
Howe's  interference.  In  fact,  he  let  the  earl  have  his 
way  in  military  matters,  which  was  the  one  piece  of 
good  sense  that  he  showed.  I  heard  afterward  that 
Pitt  intended  Howe  to  be  the  real  moving  spirit  of  the 
campaign,  prompting  and  directing  the  sluggish  Aber- 
crombie. 

Abercrombie  sauntered  off  to  make  gallant  speeches 
to  some  of  the  ladies  who  were  present,  and  Lord 
Howe,  drawing  me  to  a  window,  where  we  were  a 
little  apart  from  the  others,  began  to  question  me  about 
the  troops  who  had  arrived  from  New  York,  the  feel- 
ing among  the  men  and  officers  of  my  rank,  their  con- 
dition, and  what  they  expected  from  the  campaign. 
He  showed  so  much  understanding,  and  his  manner 
was  so  sympathetic  and  so  kind,  that  I  was  moved  to 
make  an  appeal  to  him  in  behalf  of  the  seigneur  and 
his  daughter.  Though  I  omitted  the  meeting  with  the 
spy  in  New  York,  I  told  him  I  knew  the  de  St.  Maurs 
well,  and  was  confident  the  seigneur  had  not  sought 
to  abuse  his  mission  into  our  colony  and  use  it  for 
any  covert  purposes. 

He  listened  to  me  very  attentively. 

"  You  take  much  interest  in  them,  do  you  noi?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied. 

"  In  which  do  you  take  the  greater  interest,  the 
seigneur  or  his  daughter?  " 
8 


io8 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


iif; 


I  was  a  trifle  confused,  but,  as  I  saw  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye,  1  knew  there  was  no  necessity  for  an  answer. 
Then  he  added: 

"  This  matter  is  to  be  disposed  of  by  the  general 
this  afternoon  before  the  council  of  the  officers  is  held. 
It  does  not  seem  to  me  that  there  is  proof  upon  which 
we  can  continue  to  hold  the  seigneur  in  violation  of  his 
safe  conduct,  though,  of  course,  you  will  not  quote  me 
as  "laying  so,  as  General  Abcrcrombie  is  in  supreme 
command  here." 

There  was  a  great  party  at  luncheon,  mostly  British, 
however.  General  Abercrombie  found  the  wine  good, 
and  showed  his  appreciation  of  it  in  large  measure, 
wheieupon  he  grew  very  mellow,  and  when  the  gentle- 
men were  alone  in  the  parlor  afterward  fold  stories 
which  it  were  better  not  to  repeat.  After  a  little  of  this, 
which  went  a  long  way.  Lord  Howe  whispered  some- 
thing to  him,  and  he  announced  with  pompous  grav- 
ity that  the  time  for  wit  and  humor  had  passed,  and 
we  must  now  dispose  of  a  serious  matter.  I  was  by 
far  the  lowest  in  rank  then  in  the  room,  but  General 
Abercrombie  made  no  objection  to  my  presence.  I 
suppose  Lord  Howe  had  prepared  that  for  me.  Then 
he  dispatched  a  messenger  for  the  seigneur,  who  came 
speedily,  escorted  by  two  soldiers. 

The  soldiers  stopped  at  the  drawing-room  door, 
and  the  seigneur  entered,  walking  directly  toward  Gen- 
eral Abercrombie.  He  was  the  old  lion  all  over, 
haughty  and  fierce,  and  looking  much  more  fit  to  try 
the  general  than  the  general  was  to  try  him.  Lord 
Howe  courteously  invited  him  to  take  a  seat.  He  de- 
clined at  first,  but  when  the  earl  insisted  he  accepted. 
He  took  no  note  of  me,  but  he  must  have  seen  me. 

General  Abercrombie  was  yet  mellow  with  his 
wine,  otherwise  I  doubt  whether  even  he  would  have 
held  this  little  court  in  such  an  informal  manner.    He 


THE    RESULT    OF    A    TRIAL. 


log 


Stated  in  a  ran  hling  way  that  the  Seig^neur  Raymond 
do  St.  Maiir  was  accused  of  connivinp^  with  one  Jean 
Leloir,  a  French  spy  who  had  been  taken  and  escaped, 
but  who  before  escaping  had  said  he  was  a  friend  of 
the  seigneur,  then  within  the  Enghsh  hues  on  a  mis- 
sion connected  with  exchange  of  prisoners. 

The  seigneur,  in  a  manner  of  tlie  utmost  coldness 
and  haughtiness,  said  he  knew  no  one  named  Jean 
Leloir,  nor  any  spy  of  any  name  whatever;  whereupon 
I  assumed  that  the  spy  had  given  a  false  name,  and 
that  Mile.  Louise  had  never  told  her  father  about  the 
meeting.  At  the  end  of  his  denial  the  seigneur  said 
that  he  made  the  statement  voluntarily,  that  he  did  not 
recognize  the  right  of  the  English  commander  in  chief 
to  detain  him  or  to  question  him,  inasmuch  as  he  was 
within  the  lines  by  agreement  of  the  hostile  forces, 
and  on  an  errand  recognized  by  the  military  laws  of 
all  civilized  nations. 

General  Abercrombie  flushed  very  red  at  the  sting- 
ing and  I  think  deserved  reproach,  and  would  have 
made  some  insulting  answer,  but  ^'s  good  mentor, 
Lord  Howe,  was  at  his  elbow,  and  restrained  him. 
Instead,  he  asked  him  some  questions  about  his  move- 
ments al  New  York  and  Albany,  to  all  of  which  the 
seigneur  returned  such  prompt  and  clear  answers  that 
it  was  obvious  to  every  mind  present  not  rrjuddled  that 
he  could  have  had  no  connection  with  the  spy. 

General  Abercrombie  seemed  to  be  disappointed. 
Lord  Howe  whispered  to  him,  but  he  shook  his  head, 
and  this  time  seemed  bent  upon  having  his  w;iy.  He 
ordered  that  the  seigneur  be  taken  into  an  adjoin- 
ing room  and  be  kept  there  for  the  present.  The  sei- 
gneur retired,  his  expression  half  amusement,  half 
contempt. 

"  There  is  a  lady,  M.  de  St.  Maur's  daughter,  who 
is  concerned  in  this  case,"  said  General  Abercrombie. 


no 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


it'; 


\:    < 


* 


ill  HI 


'^^■; 


"  We  must  have  her  testimony  also. — Lord  Howe,  will 
you  send  for  her  at  once?" 

The  earl  immediately  turned  to  me  and  asked  me 
to  bring  Mile,  de  St.  Maur.  I  was  grateful  to  him  for 
having  chosen  nie,  which  1  knew  he  had  done  from 
deliberation,  Ijut  it  was  not  a  time  or  place  to  thank 
him,  and,  as  soon  as  1  received  the  written  order  to 
the  sentinel  at  the  Kvertsen  house,  I  hurried  away. 

I  found  mademoiselle  somewhat  anxious  over  the 
result  of  the  examination.  I  told  her  that  her  turn  had 
come  now,  and  bade  her  to  be  of  courage,  as  we  had  a 
powerful  friend  in  Lord  Howe.  But  my  attempt  to 
animate  her  was  not  needed.  She  said  with  great 
spirit  that  if  the  English  expected  to  win  campaigns  by 
such  methods  it  did  not  become  a  Frenchman  or  a 
Frenchwoman  to  seek  to  prevent  them.  I  perceived 
that  she  was  a  true  daughter  of  France,  and  J  was  quite 
confident  that  she  would  be  able  to  hold  her  own  in 
the  presence  of  Abercrombie  and  all  the  others. 

We  attracted  attention  as  we  walked  through  the 
streets,  which  contained  much  soldiery,  in-  luding  some 
officers,  but,  with  mademoiselle  upon  my  arm  I  passed 
them  all,  ignoring  their  looks.  I  escorted  mademoi- 
selle directly  to  the  drawing  room  where  General 
Abercrombie  and  the  others  awaited  her.  Lord  Howe 
was  standing  at  a  window,  but  he  turned  about  the 
moment  we  entered,  and  I  saw  a  look  of  admiration 
upon  his  face.  He  hastened  forward  to  escort  Mile, 
de  St.  Maur  to  a  chair,  and  was  of  such  exceeding 
courtesy  that  my  liking  for  him,  already  strong,  in- 
creased much. 

Most  of  the  officers  had  withdrawn,  but  all  present 
rose  when  she  entered,  except  General  Abercrombie. 
I  supposed  that  he  had  forgotten  the  courtesy  be- 
cause he  had  partaken  so  freely  of  the  good  wine.  I 
gave  him  that  much  credit.    He  was  sitting  in  a  great 


THE    RESULT    OF    A    TRIAL. 


HI 


cushioned  chair,  vvitli  his  face  partly  turned  away  from 
us,  and  did  not  seem  to  tliink  it  wortii  while  to  turn 
about  when  we  entered.  • 

Lord  Howe,  with  the  same  decision  and  kindliness, 
for  which  I  ag"ain  thanked  him,  took  the  matter  in 
hand.  He  explained  with  the  greatest  courtesy  that 
Mile,  de  St.  Maur  and  her  father  were  su.^pected  of 
complicity  with  a  French  spy  named  Leloir,  aiid  Gen- 
eral Abercrombie  was  compelled  to  ask  her  some  ques- 
tions. 

'*  Very  well,"  said  Louise  with  quite  a  haughty  air. 
"Ask  them." 

Lord  Howe  bent  over  General  Abercrombie's 
chair  a  moment,  and  then  said: 

"  The  general  wishes  to  ask  you,  Mile,  de  St.  Maur, 
if  you  know  this  man  Jean  Leloir? " 

"  I  do  not  know  any  Jean  Leloir,  nor  had  I  ever 
heard  the  name  until  this  charge  was  made  against 
us,"  she  replied. 

General  Abercrombie  seemed  satisfied,  but  the  earl 
whispered  to  him  a  moment.     Then  he  said: 

**  Your  father  has  never  spoken  to  you  of  knowing 
any  one  in  Canada  named  Leloir?  " 

"No."  V/^;.'--' 

"  No  Frenchman  in  disguise  has  ever  communi- 
cated with  you  or  your  father  either  in  New  York  or 
Albany?" 

"No." 

"  So  far  as  you  know,  your  father  has  confined  him- 
self strictly  to  his  legitimate  errand — the  exchange  of 
prisoners? " 

"Yes." 

All  this  was  the  strict  truth. 

The  earl  whispered  to  the  general  again.  I  was 
devoutly  thankful  to  him  for  prompti*';;  General 
Abercrombie  so  successfully. 


ET^I 


113 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


I 


fit 


\%  ■  [' 


"  The  general  is  satisfied  with  your  replies  and 
those  of  your  father,"  said  the  earl.  "  He  believes  they 
are  the  truth,  and  regrets  that  the  matter  should  have 
hung  on  so  long  and  discommoded  you  so  much." 

"  I  thank  you  and  him,  my  lord,"  said  Mile.  Louise. 

"  He  asks  me  to  say  to  you,"  continued  the  earl, 
"  that  your  safe  conduct  will  be  renewed  at  once,  and 
you  will  be  passed  as  soon  as  ycu  wish  within  the 
French  Mnes." 

"  I  thank  you  again,  my  lord,"  said  Louise  with  a 
bright  smile. 

**  Lieutenant  Charteris,"  said  the  earl,  turning  to 
me,  "  you  will  assist  in  carrying  out  General  Aber- 
crombie's  wishes  and  orders  by  escorting  Mile,  de  Si. 
Maur  and  her  father  to  their  quarters.  See  that  they 
receive  every  attention  in  Mr.  Evertsen's  power." 

I  rose  to  cross  the  room  and  carry  out  my  orders, 
and  in  doing  so  I  obtained  a  full  view  of  General  Aber- 
crombie's  face,  and  perceived  that  he  was  sleeping 
soundly.  Even  as  we  passed  through  the  door  in 
search  of  the  seigneur  his  snore  rose  upon  the  peaceful 
air  and  permeated  the  apartment. 

Just  how  the  earl  broke  the  news  of  the  verdict 
to  the  general  I  never  know,  for  Abercrombie  always 
kept  silent  about  the  matter,  as  I  am  sure  I,  too,  would 
have  done  had  I  been  in  his  place. 

When  I  had  escorted  the  seigneur  and  his  daughter 
to  Mr.  Evertsen's  house,  I  returned  to  Mrs.  Schuyler's 
to  get  further  orders  from  the  earl.  But  when  I  en- 
tered the  hall  I  saw  a  round  dozen  of  our  American 
colonels  gathered  there,  all  red  with  wrath,  and  some 
swearing  with  vigor  and  profusion.  I  knew  one  of 
them,  Edgerton,  of  Connecticut,  and  I  felt  privileged 
to  ask  him  what  the  trouble  might  be. 

"  You  know  the  old  claim  of  the  British  officers/* 
he  said,  "  that  rank  in  the  provincial  armies  amounts 


THE    RESULT    OF    A    TRIAL. 


"J 


to  nothing  as  compared  with  theirs.  An  order  has 
just  arrived  from  London  directing  that  a  provin- 
cial colonel  shall  never  outrank  a  captain  of  Brit- 
ish regulars.  We've  come  to  the  general's  council,  but 
we're  denied  admission,  as  at  best  we're  only  equal 
to  captains  in  rank." 

I  left,  wondering  at  this  latest  proof  of  British  tact. 
As  an  officer  of  the  Royal  Americans,  my  commission 
came  from  the  King,  and  I  was  in  his  pay;  but  my  sym- 
pathies were  all  for  my  countrymen.  Mine  truly  was 
a  sword  of  two  and  rival  camps,  and  I  was  catching 
the  dust  of  both. 


m 


1 


I; 


1 

'■■'  - 

■;':| 

■•i 

i 
1 

.  i 

.-> 

1 

■ 

. 

;i 

1 

J 

■ 
i 

1 

1 

CHAPTER   X. 


A   MORNING    SURPRISE. 


The  seigneur  and  Louise  were  sent  under  escort 
the  next  day  co  Lake  George,  and  we  heard  a  little 
later  from  our  scouts  that  they  had  reached  the  French 
lines  in  safety.  One  of  these  scouts  was  Zebedee 
Crane,  who  Foon  became  the  very  good  friend  of  both 
Culverhouse  and  myself. 

While  the  army  was  marching  to  Lake  George, 
we  joined  Zebedee  in  one  of  his  scouting  expeditions, 
and  on  a  bright  morning  in  early  summer  saw  a  streak 
of  silver  shining  through  the  trees. 

"  Wh?tt  is  that,  Zebedee?"  asked  Culverhouse. 

"  Cold  water.  You  ought  to  know  the  sight  of  it, 
even  if  you  are  an  English  officer." 

"  Zebedee,  if  you  were  not  so  usefu^  to  us,  I  would 
resent  that  remark.  I  fear  much  that  you  will  never 
be  a  good  courtier!  " 

"What's  a  courtier,  leftenant?" 

"  Never  mind.  But,  at  least,  it's  what  you  are 
not." 

"  All  right,  leftenant.  Come  to  the  top  of  this  hill 
here  an'  you  can  get  a  better  view  of  the  water.  See 
it  a-shinin'  like  silver  through  them  trees.  That's  the 
lake,  and  the  dark  line  above  it  is  the  mountain  on 
the  other  side.  But  the  risin'  sun  will  turn  both  lake 
and  mountain  to  yellow  gold  pretty  soon." 

It  was  full  daylight  when  Culverhouse,  Zebedee 

114 


A    MORNING    SURPRISE. 


115 


Crane,  and  I  caught  this  first  glimpse  of  the  lake  that 
we  call  George,  but  for  which  the  Indians  have  a  finer 
and  more  romantic  name.  The  sun  was  peeping  over 
the  high  mountains,  and  his  first  rays  fell  upon  the 
lake,  splashing  drops  of  gold  upon  its  silver  bosom. 
The  birds  of  the  morning  were  singing  with  full  throats. 
The  mountains,  save  now  and  then  a  peak,  which  rose 
savage  and  naked  as  if  scorning  any  adornment,  were 
covered  with  the  deep,  rich,  luxuriant  green  of  an 
Americ«.i  forest  in  the  fullness  of  summer.  Set  deep 
in  the  mountains,  spread  the  sparkling  lake.  Wild 
flowers  sprang  up  at  our  feet.  In  our  faces  blew  the 
west  wind,  crisp  and  sweet  with  the  odor  of  the 
woods. 

"  How  pleasant  is  the  breath  of  the  green  wood ! " 
said  Culverhouse,  standing  up  and  inhaling  the  breeze. 
"  It  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  would  like  to  be  a  Robin 
Hood." 

"Who's  Robin  Hood?"  asked  Zebedee,  who  was 
much  given  to  curiosity. 

"  Robin  Hood,"  replied  Culverhouse,  "  was  an  es- 
timable gentleman  with  tastes  and  habits  to  which 
yours,  I  suspect,  are  much  akin,  friend  Zebedee." 

"  Then  he  must  have  been  a  mighty  fine  man,"  said 
Zebedee  with  calm  egotism. 

Culverhouse  laughed,  and  lay  down  in  the  deep, 
rich  grass,  luxuriating  like  a  wild  animal  in  the  forest. 

"  It  was  worth  coming  across  the  sea  to  get  a  view 
like  this  and  to  feel  like  this,"  he  said. 

"  But  s'pose  it  was  winter,"  said  Zebedee,  "  an*  it 
was  a-hailin'  an'  a-snowin'  an'  it  was  sixty  miles  from 
the  nearest  settlement,  an'  you  had  no  powder  in  your 
powder  horn  an'  no  bullets  in  your  bullet  pouch, 
how'd  you  hke  it  then?" 

"  We  will  not  contemplate  such  a  combination  of 
misfortunes,  Zebedee,"  said  Culverhouse.    "  I  could  lie 


ii6 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAIT. 


!'l 


in  this  grass  and  go  to  sleep  feeling  as  if  I  were  half- 
way to  heaven." 

**  An'  most  likely  you'd  wake  up  all  the  way  to 
heaven  or  t'other  place,"  said  Zebedee,  "  an'  without 
your  scalp,  too.  Don't  you  know  these  woods  are  full 
of  Indians — Hurons  and  the  like?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  do  know  it,"  said  Culverhouse  lazily. 
"  It  has  been  told  to  me  often  enough,  but  I  don't  seem 
to  realize  it." 

"  That's  what  ails  you  English,"  said  Zebedee  "  If 
you  thought  more  about  Indians  an'  less  aboui.  boss 
parades  an'  beatin'  drums,  more  of  you  might  keep 
your  scalps  where  they  belong,  on  top  of  your  heads." 

Zebedee,  who  was  sitting  on  a  fallen  log,  with  his 
long  rifle  resting  on  his  knees,  spoke  very  earnestly, 
and  Culverhouse  felt  the  reproof,  for  he  said: 

"  It  must  be  confessed,  Zebedee,  that  your  remarks 
are  true.  We  have  not  yet  proved  ourselves  to  be 
adepts  at  this  sort  of  warfare.     But  we  can  learn." 

"  It's  time  to  set  about  it,"  said  lebedee  tersely. 

No  one  could  ever  accuse  Zebedee  of  shuffling  or 
evasive  speech. 

"  Perhaps  an  Indian  concealed  somewhere  in  the 
undergrowth  is  regarding  us  now,"  I  said. 

"  It's  not  impossible,"  replied  Zebedee. 

-"  A  cheerful  thought!  "  said  Culverhouse. 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  that  before  we  asked 
permission  to  come  ahead  of  the  army  on  this  scouting 
expedition,"  I  said.  "  We  are  within  the  enemy's  lines, 
are  we  not,  Zebedee?" 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  lines,"  replied  the  boy, 
"  but  we  are  within  his  reach.  Across  yonder,  toward 
Champlain,  is  Ticonderoga,  that  we're  comin'  with 
such  a  power  of  men  an'  bayonets  an'  drums  to  take.'* 

"  And  we  will  take  it  too,  Zebedee,"  said  Culver- 
house.   "  Don't  be  a  prophet  of  evil." 


A    MORNING    SURPRISE. 


117 


Zebedee  did  not  reply,  but,  shading  his  eyes  with 
his  hand  from  the  brilHant  sunshine,  ga^ed  long  in 
the  direction  in  which  wc  knew  the  kernel  of  the 
French  force  lay.  Then  he  turned  his  eyes  down 
toward  the  lake,  and  presently  he  said: 

"  There's  a  canoe  across  yonder  under  the  bank  01 
the  hill."       4 

"Indians  in  it?" 

"  Indians  or  French,  or  more  likely  both,"  he  said. 

He  pointed  out  the  distant  object  keeping  so  care- 
fully within  the  shadow  of  the  cliff  that  without  Zebe- 
dee neither  Culverhouse  nor  I  would  ever  have  seen 
it.  It  was  moving  up  the  lake,  but  remained  so  close 
to  the  wall  of  rock  that  we  could  not  distinguish  its 
occupants. 

"  That  means  somethin',  I  guess,"  said  Zebedee. 
"  The  French  know  our  army  is  comin',  an'  Montcalm 
don't  sleep  twenty-four  hours  a  day.  When  we  go 
a-scoutin'  we  ought  to  go  a-scoutin',  an'  we'd  better 
find  out  what  that  canoe  means.  I'll  take  one  of  you 
an'  go  further  up  the  lake,  while  the  other  can  stay 
here  an'  watch  from  this  p'int." 

"  All  right,"  said  Culverhouse,  "  I'll  go  with  you. 
I  don't  like  waiting." 

"  I  don't  like  waiting  either,"  I  said.  "  I'll  go  with 
Zebedee." 

"  Toss  up  a  shillin',"  said  Zebedee,  "  an*  settle  it 
atween  you." 

It  was  curious  how  this  lank,  half-wild  boy  as- 
serted rulership  over  us  when  we  were  in  the  wilder- 
ness. But  his  domain  was  the  woods.  Obediently 
we  tossed  up  the  shilling,  and  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  Cul- 
verhouse to  go  and  to  mine  to  stay. 

**  Now  lay  close,"  said  Zebedee  to  me  with  an  air 
of  authority,  "  an'  don't  make  any  noise.  Be  sure  an* 
don't  let  your  rifle  or  your  pistol  off." 


irS 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


m 


£ 


s  ri 


I 


I  promised  faithfully  to  heed  his  directions,  and 
then,  after  an  equally  sharp  injunction  to  Culverhouse 
"  to  walk  lighter  than  a  cat,"  they  disa])peared  in  the 
green  underbrush,  leaving  me  alone  on  the  hill. 

I  watched  the  canoe  for  some  time.  Then  it  curved 
around  a  peninsula  of  rock  and  disappeared,  and  there 
was  nothing  left  for  me  to  watch — at  least,  nothing 
that  moved — except  the  waves  of  the  lake.  But  I  felt 
no  temptation  to  violate  Zebedee's  command  and  move 
about  or  make  a  noise. 

I  was  lying  in  the  long  grass,  which  rose  above 
me.  I  did  not  believe  that  any  one  more  than  ten  feet 
away  could  discern  my  figure,  even  if  he  had  eyes  of 
preternatural  acuteness.  Before  coming  on  the  scout, 
Culverhouse  and  I,  obedient  to  Zebedee's  advice,  had 
discarded  our  officers'  coats  and  were  arrayed  in  green 
hunting  shirts,  which  blftnded  with  the  colors  of  the 
forest.  Instead  of  our  swords,  we  carried  rifles.  Mine 
lay  beside  me  within  convenient  reach  of  my  hand. 

I  was  alone  in  the  wilderness,  but  I  felt  no  fear. 
Though  I  knew  the  hostile  Hurons  and  their  equally 
cunning  allies  the  French  were  lurking  through  all 
these  forests,  I  was  like  Culverhouse,  I  could  not  real- 
ize the  danger.  Why  should  I,  when  there  was  nothing 
around  me  but  the  whispering  silence  and  the  blaze 
of  green  forest  and  golden  sunshine?  I  laughed  to 
myself  at  the  idea  of  danger,  and  rolled  my  body  into 
an  easier  position  on  the  soft  turf.  I  gazed  sleepily 
out  at  the  lake,  where  the  waves,  tossed  up  by  the  west 
wind,  pursued  each  other  briskly  across  its  glistening 
surface  until  they  crumbled  away  and  sank  back  into 
tVe  lake.  A  little  brown  bird  dropped  lightly  upon  a 
bough  over  my  head  and  poured  out  a  flood  of  song. 

It  was  all  so  gentle  and  so  sooHiing  that  my  mind 
turned  naturally  to  reflection,  to  all  the  incidents  of 
our  advance  since  we  had  departed  from  New  York, 


A    MORNING    SURPRISE. 


119 


to  those  whom  we  had  left  there,  and  then  to  Louise 
de  St.  Maur. 

These  thoughts  were  agieeable,  and  conduced  to 
rest.  I  was  tired  and  drowsy,  too.  We  had  been  trav- 
eling through  the  forest  nearly  all  the  night  before, 
for  Zebedee  said  that  when  the  Hurons  were  abroad  it 
was  safer  to  scout  after  the  sun  had  gone  down.  Zebe- 
dee and  Culverhouse  were  gone  very  long,  and  I  half 
closed  my  eyes  as  I  listened  to  the  bird's  slumber 
song. 

A  hare  hopped  through  the  grass  near  me.  I  was 
so  quiet  that  he  stood  up  for  a  moment  and  looked  at 
me  with  fearless  eyes.  Then  he  hopped  calmly  away. 
A  squirrel  ran  up  a  tree,  saucily  curving  his  bushy 
gray  tail  over  his  back  as  he  dashed  toward  the  high- 
est bough.  Some  green  lizards  crawled  along  the  side 
of  a  fallen  tree  trunk.  A  sharp  gray  nose  thrust  itself 
up  from  the  grass  twenty  or  thirty  feet  away.  I  looked 
a  second  time  at  the  gray  nose,  and  then  saw  the  lank 
body  behind  it.  A  gray  wolf!  They  were  common  in 
these  woods.  I  would  have  drawn  my  pistol  and  fired 
at  the  animal  merely  for  sport's  sake,  but  it  would  be 
insanity  to  risk  a  shot  within  the  shadow  of  vli^  ene- 
my's defenses. 

I  drew  my  hand  away  from  the  pistol  butt  toward 
which  I  had  moved  it  unconsciously,  and  regarded 
the  wolf.  He  was  a  bold  fellow.  All  but  his  head  was 
now  concealed  in  the  grass,  but  he  gazed  at  me  with 
glowing  red  eyes. 

"  You  would  probably  like  to  make  a  meal  of  me, 
my  fine  fellow,"  I  thought,  "  but  I  am  not  for  you." 

I  picked  up  a  broken  stick  and  threw  it  at  the  ani- 
mal. The  missile  fell  short,  but  the  sharp  nose  and 
the  glowing  red  eyes  disappeared  in  the  denser  under- 
growth, and  I  was  left  to  my  musings. 

I  looked  out  again  at  the  lake,  but  saw  only  the 


■■■■■■H 


EH 


120 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


crumbUng  waves  that  still  pursued  each  other  over 
its  surface.  I  wondered  why  Zeb  and  Culverhouse 
stayed  so  long.  I  had  not  supposed  they  would  go 
far  in  such  a  place  as  this.  But  as  there  was  no  answer 
to  these  unspoken  inquiries,  I  sleepily  allowed  my  eyes 
to  close.  But  I  opened  them  again  when  I  heard  the 
fluff  of  something  moving  through  the  grass. 

There  was  the  wolf  again!  He  had  moved  around 
to  the  right  of  me,  but  he  was  a  little  nearer,  and  his 
gray  nose  looked  sharper  and  his  eyes  redder  than 
before.  It  was  a  persistent  and  evidently  an  inquisi- 
tive brute. 

Perhaps  it  wanted  to  make  friends  with  me!  I 
snapped  my  fingers  in  the  manner  of  a  man  calling  a 
dog.  The  brute  cocked  his  head  on  one  side  and  came 
a  little  closer,  though  his  body  remained  concealed  in 
the  thick  undergrowth.  Wondering  at  his  tameness, 
I  snapped  my  fingers  again,  but  the  wolf  would  come 
no  nearer.  I  repeated  my  invitation  several  times,  but 
without  effect,  and  then,  tiring  of  the  business,  I  again 
threw  a  piece  of  fallen  wood  at  him.  He  disappeared 
a  second  time  with  marvelous  quickness.  Perhaps  if 
I  were  such  an  attraction  for  animals,  the  bears  and 
panthers  which  prowled  through  these  woods  would 
also  be  coming  to  see  me.  The  thought  amused  me 
for  a  moment,  and  then  I  turned  my  attention  again 
to  the  lake,  where  I  was  to  watch  for  whatsoever  I 
might  see. 

Five  minutes  passed,  and  I  heard  behind  me  the 
noise  of  something  brushing  through  the  grass.  I 
whirled  over  and  found  the  wolf's  gray  nose  and  glow- 
ing eyes  thrust  almost  in  my  face.  Startled,  I  was 
about  to  spring  back,  but  at  that  moment  the  shape 
of  a  wolf  dropped  away,  and  as  the  empty  hide  fell  to 
the  ground  an  Indian  warrior  in  all  the  glory  and 
hideousness  of  his  war  paint  sprang  to  his  feet.    He 


1 


A    MORNING    SURPRISE. 


121 


uttered  no  sound,  not  even  the  customary  war  whoop, 
but  his  glowing  eyes  expressed  his  triumph. 

My  pistol  was  in  my  belt  scarcely  a  foot  from  my 
hand,  but  I  made  no  motion  to  reach  it.  The  terrible 
surprise  and  the  triumphant  gaze  of  the  Indian  numbed 
me.  The  power  of  action  slipped  away  from  me  like 
breath  from  the  dying.  I  could  do  nothing  but  lie 
there  and  return  the  gaze  of  the  triumphant  warrior. 

Even  in  that  moment,  with  my  will  enchained  and 
expecting  death,  I  was  curiously  observant.  I  noted 
every  feature  of  the  Indian's  face,  and  I  shall  never 
forget  them,  though  I  live  to  be  as  old  as  Adam  and 
all  the  years  be  crowded  with  events.  I  observed  the 
knife  also,  and  saw  that  it  was  of  French  make.  No 
doubt  one  of  the  rewards  that  Montcalm  gave  to  his 
savage  allies. 

All  this  passed  in  the  falling  of  an  eyelid.  Then  my 
eyes  closed,  and  I  passively  awaited  the  stroke. 

I  heard  the  report  of  a  rifle  sounding  at  this  terrific 
moment  like  the  roar  of  a  cannon  in  my  ears.  A  heavy 
form  crushed  down  upon  me.  Warm  blood  spurted 
upon  my  face,  and  for  the  moment  I  became  dizzy  and 
half  unconscious. 


■Il 


1i 


( 


hi 


m 


i 


i 


111 


CHAPTER   XI. 

A   FLIGHT   AND   A    FIGHT. 

"  He  is  dead,  Zebedee!  Look,  he  is  covered  with 
blood!    We  were  too  late!  " 

"  Dead  nothin'!  Drag  him  up  an'  give  him  a  good 
shake!     Hurry!  we've  got  to  be  quick!  " 

Culverhouse's  strong  hand  was  in  the  collar  of  my 
hunting  shirt.  He  jerked  me  to  a  sitting  posture,  and 
shook  me  so  violently  that  he  shook  all  the  dizziness 
out  of  me. 

"Grab  your  gun,"  said  Zebedee,  "an'  come  on! 
We  was  just  in  time  then,  an'  we've  got  to  riin  for  it 
yet." 

The  boy  was  rapidly  reloading  his  rifle  as  he  spoke, 
and  I  dimly  comprehended  what  had  happened.  The 
dead  Indian  lying  at  my  feet  with  a  clean  round  hole 
in  his  temple  was  sufficient  explanation.  I  seized  my 
rifle,  and,  shuddering  as  I  took  a  last  look  at  the  fallen 
warrior,  darted  away  to  the  south,  close  behind  Zebe- 
dee and  Culverhouse. 

"  You  have  him  to  thank  for  not  being  in  the  In- 
dian's place,"  said  Culverhouse  between  panting 
breaths,  and  nodding  at  Zebedee.  "  It  was  one  of  the 
neatest  shots  I  ever  saw,  and  at  long  range,  too." 

Then  he  asked  Zeb  what  he  meant  to  do.  The  boy 
made  no  reply.    Culverhouse  repeated  the  question. 

"Shut  up!"  said  Zeb.  "This  ain't  no  time  to 
bother  me  with  questions." 

123 


A    FLIGHT    AND    A    FIGHT. 


123 


"  You  must  not  talk  to  nie  in  that  manner,"  said 
Culverhouse  with  some  choler.  "  I  am  an  officer,  and 
I  am  older  than  you." 

"Shut  up,  1  tell  you!"  repeated  Zeb  emphatically. 
"  Just  now  I'm  more'n  a  hundred  years  older  than 
you  are." 

Culverhouse  asked  no  more  questions. 

When  we  had  run  about  a  half  mile,  we  stopped 
for  a  moment  on  the  crest  of  a  little  hill.  Then  we  heard 
a  cry,  shrill  and  rising  higher  and  higher,  until  its 
piercing  note  seemed  to  fill  the  wilderness.  Then  it 
sank  down  in  a  long,  throbbing  quaver.  The  cry  ex- 
pressed triumph  and  anger,  and  was  of  such  uncanny 
tone  that  I  could  not  repress  a  shiver. 

"Good  God!"  exclaimed  Culverhouse.  "What, 
in  the  name  of  all  that's  merciful,  was  that?" 

"  That,"  said  Zebedee,  "  is  the  war  whoop  of  the 
Hurons,  an'  that's  what  we  want  to  get  away  from 
as  fast  as  we  can,  for  if  we  don't  our  hair  will  be  a 
public  ornament  afore  nightfall.  You  came  to  the 
war,  leftenant,  an'  you  find  it  a-meetin'  you." 

"  And  this  is  war,"  muttered  Culverhouse,  "  taking 
to  our  heels  through  the  woods  as  if  we  were  pursued 
by  the  prince  of  the  fiends  himself!  " 

"  You've  sized  it  up  tol'ably  well,  leftenant,"  said 
Zeb.  "  It's  war,  sure,  an'  it's  a  kind  of  war  that's  been 
goin'  ag'in  us  from  the  start.  It  might  be  a  good  thing 
to  recollect  that.    Now  let's  be  off  ag'in.'' 

We  resumed  our  flight.  After  the  single  whoop, 
we  heard  nothing  behind  us.  But  the  silence  was 
more  terrifying  than  any  amount  of  noise  would  have 
been.  The  wind  seemed  to  have  died  away.  There 
was  no  movement  among  the  green  young  leaves  and 
the  tender  grass.  The  sky  was  a  sheet  of  blue,  and 
the  sun,  a  great  globe  of  gold,  sailed  up  toward  the 
zenith.  It  was  just  a  brilliant  summer  morning,  and 
9 


PIMMM 


124 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


I    y 


there  was  no  hostile  sound,  nowhere  a  sign  of  an 
enemy.  But  we  could  hear  the  thun^p  of  our  own 
hearts,  and  the  strained  breath  rasping  the  throat  as  it 
was  drawn  up  from  the  tired  lungs. 

My  first  feeling  was  akin  to  shame.  It  was  the 
same  that  Culverhouse  had  expressed  in  his  short  re- 
mark. This  was  a  pretty  beginning  for  a  young  officer 
who  had  seen  the  gold  epaulets  of  a  general  shining 
at  the  end  of  his  career.  To  be  chased  headlong 
through  the  forest  by  prowling  savages,  and  to  yield 
the  leadership  perforce  to  a  lank  boy  who  did  not 
know  a  dragoon  from  a  drum  major! 

We  ran  on  for  a  long  time.  Zebedee  kept  slightly 
in  front.  I  could  not  help  noticing  his  long,  easy 
stride,  and  the  wary  manner  in  which  he  swept  the 
forest  with  his  eyes.  In  the  wilds  and  with  danger 
near  the  boy  had  expanded,  and  there  was  a  new  look 
on  his  face.  The  dull,  vvjcant  expression  such  as  those 
of  feeble  mind  wear  had  disappeared.  His  counte- 
nance was  instinct  with  intelligence.  Every  feature 
expressed  alertness,  keenness,  and  a  fitness  for  the 
part  he  assumed,  or  rather  which  fell  upon  him  like  a 
garment  that  had  been  made  for  him.  Here  the  boy 
had  become  our  master. 

We  paused  again  by  a  little  brook  that  whispered 
a  song  as  it  threw  roils  of  silver  over  the  pebbles. 

"  I  suggest  thai  we  go  no  farther,"  said  Culver- 
house  as  he  gaspc  i  for  breath.  "  It  is  not  becoming 
to  an  officer  in  his  Majesty's  service  to  fly  thus  from 
any  danger  at  all,  far  less  from  a  danger  that  he 
.  an  not  see  and  that  he  does  not  even  know  to 
exist." 

"  The  danger's  real  enough,  I  tell  you,"  said  Zebe- 
dee. "  Them  woods  behind  you  are  swarmin'  with  the 
Hurons,  an'  they  mean  to  have  us.  They  heard  my 
shot,  an'  they  saw  the  dead  warrior.     Didn't  you 


A    FLIGHT    AND    A    FIGHT. 


125 


hear  the  yell?  They'll  follow  us  now  clean  into  the 
lines  of  our  owr  army  if  they  don't  get  us  afore 
then." 

"  I  suppose  it's  as  you  say,"  said  Culvcrhouse. 
**  I'm  willing  to  admit  that  I  do  not  know  much  about 
this  manner  of  making  war." 

"  It's  no  ciioice  of  yours,"  said  Zeb.    "  They  make 

it  for  you.    We'll  rest  here  a  little,  an'  then  we'll  run 

••    It 
ag  m. 

Culverhouse  looked  at  me  and  burst  into  a  great 
laugh. 

"  What  ails  you?"  I  asked  in  amazement.  "  I  can 
see  nothing  to  laugh  at." 

"  Certainly  not,"  he  replied,  "  but  you  could  if  you 
had  a  mirror.  I  was  merely  thinking  how  lucky  it 
was  for  you  that  no  sweetheart  of  yours  could  see  you 
now." 

"  He  ain't  the  prettiest  thing  in  the  world,  that's 
certain,"  said  Zebedee,  grinning.  "  The  blood  of  the 
Indian  that  fell  across  you,  Leftenant  Charteris,  has 
run  all  over  your  face  and  dried  there,  till  you're  as 
ringed  an'  streaked  an'  striped  as  if  you  was  a  born 
curiosity  as  ugly  as  tarnation." 

**  Here's  water.     I'll  wash  it,"  I  said. 

"  No,"  said  Zeb  authoritatively.  "  Let  it  go.  You're 
not  pretty,  but  you're  pretty  enough  for  the  busi- 
ness we've  got  on  hand.  Do  you  feel  a  little  fresher 
now? "  ^ 

We  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and,  Zeb  leading, 
we  began  our  flight  again.  We  had  run  perhaps  half 
a  mile  when  the  sound  of  a  rifle  shot  reached  us.  I 
heard  a  singing  past  my  ear,  and  involuntarily  I  threw 
my  head  to  one  side.  I  have  heard  that  hiss  often 
since.  That  was  the  first  time  it  ever  whispered  in 
my  ear,  but  I  knew  it  well  even  t'len.  It  marked  the 
passage  of  a  bullet. 


126 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


!■    i 


J- 

4' ; 


"They're  close  behind  us,"  said  Zebedee,  "but 
they  fired  sooner  than  I  expected.  That  v/as  a  long- 
range  shot.  Boys,  we  must  make  a  rush,  or  they'll 
pick  us  oflf." 

I  cast  a  look  behind  me,  and  saw  nothing  but  one 
little  curl  of  smoke  rising  above  the  trees.  But  there 
was  no  longer  any  doubt  about  the  pursuit.  The 
whistle  of  the  bullet  was  sufficient  proof.  And  it 
seemed  somehow  to  give  us  renewed  strength.  Zeb 
chuckled  dryly  at  our  increased  speed.  Presently  we 
heard  the  war  whoop  again,  but  this  time  it  was  not 
from  one  voice,  but  from  a  dozen.  Back  among  the 
trees  we  could  see  the  forms  of  our  pursuers. 

"  I  can  not  endure  this  any  longer,  Zebedee," 
gasped  Culverhouse.  "  Breath  and  strength  are  leav- 
ing me.  You  atid  Charteris  go  on,  and  I'll  make 
the  best  stand  I  can,  and  die  as  becomes  a  King's 
officer." 

Culverhouse's  words  were  brave,  and  I  doubt  not 
that  he  meant  them,  or  rather  tried  to  mean  them,  but 
his  eyes  expressed  the  hope  that  we  would  not  desert 
him.  No  man  is  so  brave  that  he  is  willing  to  be 
abandoned  in  the  face  of  death.  Nor  did  we  take  him 
at  his  word. 

"  Come  on  to  the  top  of  the  hill  there,  an*  we'll 
make  a  fight  of  it  together.  That's  the  place  for  us," 
said  Zebedee. 

And  so  it  was.  I  had  enough  of  a  military  eye  to 
see  it  at  a  glance. 

Upon  a  small  hill  a  great  number  of  large  trees 
had  been  blown  down  by  a  tornado.  They  had  fallen 
in  such  a  manner  that  some  of  the  trunks  lay  across 
each  other,  while  the  vegetation  grew  between.  It 
was  a  kind  of  natural  fortification,  and  the  sight  cheered 
us  greatly. 

Culverhouse  and   I   gathered  up  our  remaining 


A    FLIGHT    AND    A    FIGHT. 


127 


» 


» 


Strength  and  made  a  dash  for  the  logs.  Zebedee,  in- 
stead of  leading,  now  brought  up  the  rear.  When  we 
were  within  a  yard  or  two  of  the  fallen  trees  he  whirled 
about,  threw  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  c^nd  pulled  the 
trigger.  As  the  stream  of  fire  leaped  from  the  long 
barrel  it  was  accompanied  by  a  piercing  cry,  and  I 
knew  that  one  of  oui  pursuers  would  pursue  no  mor. . 
Then  all  together  we  leaped  over  the  timber  and  flung 
ourselves  panting  upon  the  ground,  the  rifle  bullets  of 
our  pursuers  pattering  upon  the  logs. 

Before  the  reports  of  their  rifles  had  ceased  to  ring 
in  our  ear-  the  wary  Zebedee  was  on  his  knees  examin- 
ing our  quarters. 

"  Lay  close,  boys,"  he  said,  "  an'  none  of  their  bul- 
lets can  touch  you.  Peep  through  that  crack  there, 
an'  you  can  see  'now  many  Indians  are  after  you." 

Culverhouse  and  I  looked  as  we  had  been  told, 
and,  much  to  our  astonishment,  saw  nothing — that  is, 
nothing  living.  There  was  the  forest,  green  and  placid, 
the  brilliant  beams  of  the  sun  penetrating  the  foliage 
of  the  trees  ai.d  lingering  lovingly  on  th^  grass.  It 
seemed  to  be  a  primeval  wilderness  into  which  we,  and 
we  alone,  had  come. 

"  These  red  enemies  of  ours  have  most  surprising 
methods,"  ejaculated  Culverhouse.  "  V/ill  you  kindly 
tell  me,  friend  Zebedee,  what  has  become  of  them?" 

"*  I  guess  the  earth  has  just  opened  an'  swallered 
'em  up,"  said  Zebedee,  "  but  if  you  was  to  poke  your 
head  above  that  log  I'll  bet  a  half  dozen  bullets  would 
come  a-huntin'  it.  You  can  bet,  leftenant,  that  they're 
a-waitin'  for  your  scalp." 

"What  queer  people  these  red  fellows  are!"  said 
Culverhouse  again  meditatively,  "  an'^  how  they  vio- 
late all  the  rules  of  war! " 

"  But  they  win  battles  mighty  often,  spite  of  the 
rules,"  intetfufted  Zebedee. 


Wi 


in 


128 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


i    i 


"  And  what  a  sanguinary  desire  they  evince  to  ob- 
tain our  scalps !  "  continued  Culverhouse. 

He  felt  for  his  hair,  which  was  very  abundant,  and 
then  said  ruefully  to  me: 

"  To  think  I  should  be  threatened  with  such  a  fate, 
I,  who  have  danced  with  a  princess  of  the  blood 
royal!" 

Zeb  burst  into  a  fit  of  derisive  laughter. 

"  Do  you  think  the  Hurons  will  care  for  your 
princess  of  the  blood  royal,  leftenant?"  he  asked. 
"  But,  lordy  me,  the  Hurons  know  somethin'  'bout 
teachin'  people  to  dance  themselves.  They'll  know 
how  to  make  you  hop,  skip,  an'  jump,  leftenant " 

"  Zebedee,  my  friend,"  said  Culverhouse  sci  Ov 
fully,  '*  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  trying  to  play  upon 
my  fears  with  these  suggestions  of  the  red  men's  devil- 
try.   It  is  very  unkind  of  you,  Zebedee." 

.  "  All  right,  leftenant,"  said  Zebedee  cheerfully. 
"  We'll  drop  it.  I  guess  we  both  had  better  be  watchin' 
the  Hurons." 

The  windrow  had  been  a  great  piece  of  luck  for  us. 
The  surrounding  space  for  some  yards  in  every  direc- 
tion was  almost  bare  of  trees.  We  could  sweep  the 
intervening  territory  with  our  rifles,  and  if  our  ene- 
mies attempted  to  take  us  with  a  rush  it  would  be 
a  most  dangerous  thing  for  them. 

"  They  vv^on't  try  the  rush,  at  least,  not  yet,"  said 
Zeb.  "  Much  as  they  love  scalps,  they  like  to  get  'em 
without  riskin'  their  own.  They'd  rather  wait.  I  think 
we're  in  for  a  long  spell  of  it.  Have  you  got  anythin' 
to  propose,  leftenant?  " 

"  Zebedee,"  said  Culverhouse  with  a  fine  air  of 
resignation,  "  I  am  an  officer  in  the  army;  so  is  my 
friend  here ;  you,  as  far  as  we  know,  are  not  an  officer 
in  anything.  Nevertheless,  we  resign  this  affair  into 
your  hands.    I  disclaim  any  responsibility  whatsoever 


A    FLIGHT    AND    A    FIGHT. 


129 


I 


for  our  situation  and  for  what  may  happen.  This  is 
not  correct  in  any  particular.  It  is  contrary  to  all 
the  rules  of  warfare  as  I  have  learned  them  in  the  best 
and  most  polished  schools  of  the  world.  I  can  ex- 
press only  my  disgust  at  such  an  un-English  way  of 
making  war,  and  my  deep  regret  at  being  concerned 
in  it.  The  thought  of  the  many  apologies  that  I  will 
have  to  make  to  my  fellow-ofiicers  is  most  unpleasant, 
and  vexes  my  spirit  sorely." 

"  How  very  English  you  are ! "  I  said.  "  You 
would  then  have  the  Hurons  to  fight  according  to 
your  methods?  " 

**  Of  a  certainty,"  he  said  with  emphasis.  "  It  is  the 
only  proper  way.  The  Hurons  can  never  hope  to 
obtain  my  approval  if  they  persist  in  their  irregu- 
larities." 

Here  Culverhouse  settled  himself  back  against  the 
logs  as  if  he  felt  great  relief  at  having  got  a  burden 
off  his  mind,  and  intended  to  have  nothing  more  to  do 
with  the  affair.  1  cast  a  look  at  Zebedee  to  see  how 
he  took  this  enunciation  of  the  military  law,  but  that 
young  worthy  was  staring  between  the  logs  at  the 
forest,  and  apparently  did  not  hear.  As  for  myself,  I 
concluded  it  was  better  not  to  reply. 

For  a  long  time  none  of  us  spoke.  We  contented 
ourselves  with  watching.  It  was  now  noonday,  for 
the  sun  had  sailed  up  to  the  zenith  and  hung  directly 
over  our  heads.  Poised  in  the  center  of  the  heavens, 
he  poured  his  shining  arrows  upon  us,  and  we  could 
see  the  heat  quivering  in  the  air.  Nor  was  it  per- 
mitted us  to  escape  it.  We  tried  to  crouch  under  the 
fallen  trees,  but  the  sun's  rays  sought  us  there,  and 
drew  the  sweat  every  time  they  struck  us. 

"  It  is  a  most  uncomfortable  day  to  stand  a  siege," 
said  Culverhouse. 

"  You  mean  it's  tarnal  hot,"  said  Zeb. 


I 


li 


k  t- 


V'Al 


* 


it 


130 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


"  It  comes  to  the  same  thing,"  replied  Culverhouse, 
"  though  your  expression  may  be  mere  direct  and 
forcible." 

"  What  is  going  to  be  the  end  of  all  this?  "  asked 
Culverhouse  after  another  long  pause. 

"  Maybe  our  scalps  will  hang  on  a  lodge  pole," 
said  Zeb  deliberately,  "  an'  maybe  they  won't.  They 
won't  if  the  troops  who  ought  to  come  get  here  in  time. 
As  nigh  as  I  can  calculate,  this  place  is  right  on  the 
line  of  march  of  our  army.  We  ain't  very  far  ahead, 
an'  p'r'aps  some  of  'em  will  come  up  an'  help  us  out. 
Leastways  that  might  be  the  case  if  the  army  had  any 
more  scoutin'  parties  out  now." 

"  If  they  come,  I  hope  they  won't  be  long  about 
it,"  said  Culverhouse.  "  By  my  faith,  this  position  is 
getting  to  be  a  trifle  uncomfortable !  Zebedee,  are  you 
still  of  a  mind  that  our  enemies  are  in  c  icealment 
there,  watching  us? " 

"  If  you  don't  think  it,"  said  Zebedee,  "  lift  your  hat 
a  bit  above  the  highest  log.  The  trick  ain't  new,  an' 
maybe  they'll  let  it  pass.  But  still  they're  so  anxious 
for  a  shot  that  I  guess  some  of  'em  will  plunk  away 
at  it." 

"  The  suggestion  seems  to  be  well  made,  and  I 
think  I  will  try  it,"  said  Culverhouse. 

He  began  cautiously  and  slowly  to  lift  his  head. 
The  top  of  his  hat  was  just  beginning  to  appear  above 
the  improvised  fortification  when  Zeb  seized  him  with 
both  hands  and  dragged  him  down. 

"  Don't  be  so  pesky  fast,  leftenant,"  he  said.  "  I 
said  raise  the  hat,  but  you  needn't  raise  it  with  your 
head  in  it." 

**  By  Jove,  you  are  right,"  said  Culverhouse  in 
some  confusion.  "  I  am  glad  you  brought  me  to  with 
a  jerk.  It  would  have  been  decidedly  irregular,  not  to 
mention  the  matter  of  danger." 


t;^'.-^-^ 


"'v^'MaagVjafflg' 


A    FLIGHT    AND    A    FIGHT. 


131 


"  Which  last  ain't  the  least  by  any  manner  of 
means,"  said  Zeb.  Then,  without  more  ado,  ne  reached 
over,  seized  Culverhouse's  befrogged  hat,  and  lifted  it 
off  his  head. 

"  I  guess  I'd  better  do  this,"  he  said.  "  I  'pear  to 
have  more  of  a  sleight  at  these  things  than  you  do, 
leftenant.  You  might  beat  me  out  in  the  open,  where 
things  are  reg'lar,  but  here  in  the  woods  I'm  a  lettle 
bit  heftier." 

He  put  the  hat  on  the  end  of  the  ramrod  of  his 
gun,  and  began  to  hoist  it,  though  with  much  slow- 
ness. 

"  It  may  sp'il  the  hat,  leftenant,"  said  Zebedee, 
"  but  it's  for  the  sake  of  a  good  cause." 

"  And  I  paid  three  guineas  for  it  out  of  my  own 
purse,"  said  Culverhouse  sorrowfully.  "  If  there  is 
anything  about  my  habit  that  has  been  a  particular 
joy  to  me,  it  has  been  my  hat." 

The  hat  rose  above  the  log,  a  bit  of  the  feathers 
and  gold  braid  appearing  first.  Then  a  little  of  the 
crown  was  hoisted  into  view,  and  the  next  moment  the 
report  of  a  firearm  was  heard  from  a  point  in  the  woods 
toward  the  northwest. 

Zeb  lowered  the  hat  and  handed  it  to  Culverhouse, 
saying : 

"  Leftenant,  I  thank  you  for  the  loan  of  your  fine 
hat,  an'  I  give  it  back  to  you  with  extrys  added 
to  it." 

There  was  a  neat  round  hole  in  either  side,  where 
the  Indian  bullet  had  gone  through.  Culverhouse 
clapped  the  hat  back  on  his  head. 

"  Your  assertions  about  the  Indians  are  true,  Zebe- 
dee," he  said,  "  and  the  fact  needs  no  further  verifica- 
tion at  the  expense  of  my  chapeau." 

The  incident  made  it  very  evident  that  our  ene- 
mies would  not  relax  their  vigilance.     In  fear  of  an 


132 


A.  SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


)  ' 


attack  or  some  of  the  dangerous  devices  to  which  these 
crafty  savages  are  addicted,  we  watched  the  woods  on 
all  sides. 

*'  I  think  I  begin  to  have  a  tincture  of  the  battle 
fever,"  said  Culverhouse  presently.  "  Is  there  no  way 
in  which  I  can  lodge  a  shot  in  the  vitals  of  one  of  those 
crapulous  savages?" 

"  It  is  irregular,"  I  said.  "The  military  treatises 
do  not  provide  for  any  such  feats." 

"  I  am  willing  now  to  overlook  the  irregularity," 
said  Culverhouse,  "  as  we  have  happened  upon  cir- 
cumstances of  such  queerness." 

"  The  chance  may  be  yours  soon,"  said  Zeb.  "  If 
you  see  an  Indian,  shoot  at  him,  but  look  out  for  your 
own  head.    Don't  poke  it  out  too  far." 

Culverhouse  and  I  at  least  had  little  stomach  for 
such  inaction,  and  we  were  beset  with  impatience.  I 
was  just  opening  my  mouth  to  make  complaint  when 
the  words  were  cut  off  at  my  lips  by  a  volley  of  rifle 
shots.  We  heard  some  of  the  bullets  whizzing  over 
our  heads  and  others  burying  themselves  with  a  nasty 
spat!  spat  Lin  the  tree  trunks. 

"  From  what  point  are  they  firing?  "  asked  Culver- 
house, who  was  fingering  his  rifle  and  showing  much 
desire  to  return  the  fire. 

"  From  all  p'ints,"  replied  Zeb.  "  They've  made  a 
ring  'round  us,  an'  are  all  firin'  at  us  in  the  center  in 
hopes  that  we  can't  dodge  all  their  bullets." 

"  Nor  can  we,"  said  I,  as  I  felt  a  sting  in  my  left 
arm. 

I  pulled  up  the  sleeve  in  much  haste,  but  the  bullet 
had  only  burned  the  flesh.  It  was  like  the  sting  of  a 
bee  to  an  ox,  and  aroused  in  me  a  great  desire  to  re- 
turn the  courtesy  with  all  the  interest  that  should  be 
added  by  a  gentleman.  I  peeped  through  the  tree 
trunks  in  an  effort  to  catch  sight  of  our  hitherto  in- 


A    FLIGHT    AND    A    FIGHT. 


133 


visible  foe.  At  that  moment  a  rifle  flashed  beside  me, 
and  Culverhouse  uttered  a  cry  of  joy. 

"  I  verily  believe  I  hit  him,  the  dancing  demon!" 
he  exclaimed.  "  I  saw  him  skipping  from  one  tree 
to  another." 

"  An'  I  know  I  hit  mine,"  said  Zebedee,  who  had 
fired  a  moment  later,  **  for  I  saw  his  body  pitch  over 
in  the  bushes,  an'  it's  a-layin'  there  yet." 

I  dso  got  a  shot,  but  I  am  confident  I  missed. 

And  I  have  always  held  to  it  that  Culverhouse 
missed  too,  for  he  was  a  poor  marksman,  which  was 
not  to  be  wondered  at,  his  experience  with  the  rifle 
being  but  small. 

Then  the  shots  ceased,  and  silence  again  possessed 
the  woods. 

"  They  made  a  mess  of  it  that  time,"  said  Zebe- 
dee, "  an'  lost  a  good  warrior.  They  risked  too  much, 
an'  showed  themselves  when  they  should  a-laid  hid 
and  plunked  away  at  us.  Then  in  time  they  might  have 
killed  all  of  us  without  any  of  'em    ettin'  hurt." 

"  Then,  I  trust,  Zeb,  they  will  not  think  of  it  yet!  " 
I  exclaimed. 

There  was  a  long  pause,  in  which  we  did  nothing 
but  blister  under  the  blazing  sun  and  reflect  upon  the 
pressing  inconvenience  of  our  situation.  I,  at  least,  did 
the  latter,  and  wondered  over  and  over  again  if  all 
the  fine  ambitions  I  had  cherished  were  to  end  ob- 
scurely in  that  dark  forest,  like  a  candle  put  out  by  a 
pufif  of  wind. 

The  sun  began  to  sink,  and  a  cooling  breeze  set  in 
from  the  west.  It  dispelled  the  heat,  and  our  spirits 
rose  as  the  temperature  sank. 

"  It  will  not  be  very  long  until  nightfall,"  said 
Zeb. 

"  Will  not  that  give  the  Indians  a  better  chance  to 
approach  us?"  asked  Culverhouse. 


134 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


vl 


p 


"  Certain,"  replied  Zeb,  "  an'  it'll  also  give  us  a 
better  chance  to  get  away.  We  mustn't  spend  a  whole 
night  in  this  place.  We  must  run  the  risk  and  try  to 
steal  away  in  the  dark." 

"  I  can  not  see  wherein  it  is  more  desirable  to  be 
struck  by  a  bullet  or  a  tomahawk  in  the  dark  than  by 
day,"  said  Culverhouse. 

"  In  the  day  you  get  scared  before  you're  hit," 
said  Zeb,  "  an'  in  the  dark  you  don't,  'cause  you  don't 
know  what's  comin'.  But  maybe  we  won't  have  to  do 
neither.     I  hear  horns." 

He  spoke  the  latter  words  with  an  appearance  of 
eager,  intense  interest.  We  asked  him  what  he  meant 
by  "  hearing  horns,"  but  he  condescended  no  reply. 
He  had  raised  himself  on  his  knees,  crouched  like  a 
great  cat,  listening  and  waiting  for  the  time  to  spring. 

"  What  do  you  hear,  Zeb?  "I  asked. 

He  shook  one  hand  at  me,  making  a  gesture  of 
great  impatience,  and  perforce  I  was  silent. 

He  must  have  remained  in  his  listening  attitude  for 
the  space  of  full  five  minutes.  Then  he  dropped  back 
in  a  recumbent  posture. 

"  The  troops  are  advancin',  sure,"  he  said.  "  I 
heard  their  horns.  The  sound  come  on  the  wind. 
'Twasn't  much,  not  more'n  a  dry  leaf  makes  when  it 
hits  the  ground,  but  I  know  it.  It's  just  like  'em  to 
go  lickety  split  through  the  woods,  tootin'  their  horns 
an'  tellin'  every  Indian  this  side  of  the  St.  Lawrence 
where  they  are." 

"  You  mean  trumpets,  I  guess,"  I  suggested. 

"  It's  all  the  same,"  replied  the  boy  with  an  ex- 
pression of  disgust.  "  Horns,  I  call  'em.  They  make 
as  much  noise  by  either  name." 

"  But  it  is  a  noise  of  which  we  can  not  complain 
this  time,"  said  Culverhouse,  "  for  it  would  savor  of 
ill  temper  and  ingratitude." 


A   FLIGHT   AND   A    FIGHT. 


135 


>» 


« 


Hope  now  took  possession  of  us.  We  waited  and 
listened.  Once  or  twice  I  thought  I  could  hear  the 
faint  tones  of  the  trumpet,  but  I  was  not  sure.  My 
ears  were  not  so  well  attuned  to  the  forest  as  Zebe- 
dee's. 

"  I'm  hopin'  they'll  come  soon,"  said  Zebedee, 
looking  up  anxiously  at  the  sky,  "  or  the  night'll  beat 
'em  here,  an'  that'll  be  bad  for  a  rescue." 

"  Perhaps  you  were  mistaken.  Perhaps  it  was 
merely  a  phantasy,"  I  said. 

"  I  don't  know  a  phantasy.  I  never  seen  or  heard 
one,"  said  Zeb,  "  but  I  do  know  a  horn,  an'  I  heard 
it,  certain.  They  may  have  gone  on  farther  away  from 
us,  but  I  don't  believe  it,  for  we're  mighty  nigh  to  the 
line  of  march.  There!  There  it  goes  ag'in!  Don't 
you  hear  it?" 

Tra-la-loo,  tra-la-la,  tra-la-loo,  ta-too,  ta-too,  ta- 
too! 

Now  we  heard  it  distinctly  rolling  down  the  wind. 
Never  was  a  sound  more  welcome  than  that  which 
came  to  us  from  the  trumpet's  brazen  throat.  It  was 
the  voice  of  help,  of  life. 

"They're  coming!  They're  coming!"  exclaimed 
Culverhouse  joyfully.  "  It's  the  brave  lads  beating 
their  way  through  these  treacherous  forests!  Friend 
Zebedee,  you  must  confess  that  the  redcoats  are  of 
some  utility,  after  all." 

"  Let's  wait  an'  see,"  said  Zeb  cautiously. 

Straining  my  eyes  in  the  direction  from  which  the 
sound  of  the  trumpet  came,  I  saw  a  smear  of  red  on 
a  d.  tant  hilltop. 

"  Look,  Zeb,  is  not  that  the  troops?  "  I  exclaimed. 
"  Is  not  that  the  troops?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Zeb,  "  I  see  their  uniforms  shinin', 
an'  the  settin'  sun  is  glancin'  oflf  their  brass  buttons. 
That's  the  troops  or  a  part  of  'em,  an'  no  mistake. 


sas!g-**y^'W'*'^ViB6r'? 


T 


136 


A   SOLDIER    OF   MANHATTAN. 


1 1 


1  f 


An',  as  sure  as  you  live,  they're  goin'  into  camp  in  that 
open  spot  on  the  hilUop." 

"Signal  to  them!  Signal  to  them  at  once,"  ex- 
claimed Culverhouse,  "  and  let's  get  out  of  this  plague 
of  a  hole." 

In  his  eagerness  he  raised  his  head  above  the  tree 
trunk.  A  rifle  cracked  in  the  woods,  and  a  bullet 
sheared  the  feather  from  his  fine  hat.  He  sank  back, 
expressing  his  annoyance  in  vehement  terms. 

'*  I  told  you  to  wait,"  said  Zeb  reprovingly.  "  Don't 
forget  that  the  savages  are  mighty  irreg'lar,  or  you'll 
get  all  your  hat  shot  away  afore  we  get  through." 

More  soldiers  had  come  into  the  open  on  the  far 
hilltop,  until  fully  a  hundred  were  gathered  there.  Un- 
doubtedly they  were  going  into  camp  for  the  night, 
as  we  could  see  them  setting  about  their  preparations. 

"  Suppose  we  fire  our  rifles  altogether  and  attract 
their  attention,"  said  Culverhouse. 

"  An'  then  have  the  savages  altogether  rushin* 
upon  us,"  said  Zeb,  "  an'  no  loads  in  our  guns  for 
'em." 

The  wind  was  blowing  strong  from  the  soldiers 
toward  us.  We  could  even  hear  the  clang  of  the  camp 
kettles.  The  sun,  round,  red,  and  huge,  had  gone 
so  far  down  the  western  arch  of  the  sky  that  it  formed 
a  background  for  them.  In  the  full  blaze  of  its  bril- 
liant light  we  could  distinguish  the  features  of  the 
men. 

"  They  are  from  one  of  the  English  regifnents," 
said  Culverhouse. 

"  An'  for  that  reason  not  much  good  for  woods 
fightin',"  said  Zeb. 

"  I  think  I'll  shoot  off  my  gun,  an'  maybe  they'll 
hear  it,"  he  added  presently,  "  but  I  dunno,  for  the 
wind  is  blowin'  sound  back  this  way  like  a  big  cur- 
rent i^^akin'  a  stick  down  stream." 


i 
I 


A    FLIGHT    AND    A    FIGHT. 


137 


He  raised  his  rifle  and  discharged  it  into  the  air. 
The  soldiers  gave  no  evidence  that  they  had  heard 
the  report.  They  proceeded  unconcernedly  with  their 
preparations,  and  presently  we  saw  a  fire  blazing.  A 
slender  column  of  smoke  rose  from  it  and  floated  above 
the  tree  tops. 

"By  my  soul,  they  are  cooking!"  said  Culverhouse; 
"  and  that  reminds  me  that  hunger  is  gnawing  at  me. 
We  have  not  eaten  since  last  night.  I  believe  I  can 
smell  their  food." 

"  They  didn't  hear  my  gun,  -that's  certain,"  said 
Zeb.  "  Now  if  they'd  a  grain  of  sense  they'd  a  had 
scouts  lookin'  through  all  these  woods  afore  they 
camped." 

The  situation  was  most  provoking.  We  could  see 
our  friends,  and  yet  they  neither  saw  nor  heard  us. 
Despite  their  presence,  we  were  still  as  closely  be- 
sieged by  the  savages  as  if  the  soldiers  were  a  hun- 
dred miles  away.  I  saw  now  that  the  causticity  of 
Zeb's  comments  upon  the  ways  of  the  regular  soldiers 
was  equaled  only  by  their  truth.  It  suuck  me  that 
the  Great  Duke,  Marlborough,  himself,  whose  memory 
was  still  of  such  exceeding  weight  among  us,  would 
have  been  compelled  to  learn  the  art  of  war  anew  had 
he  come  campaigning  in  the  American  woods,  or  else 
Fate  would  have  played  him  sore  tricks. 

"  Leftenant,"  said  Zeb,  "  I  guess  your  hat  will  have 
to  stand  the  dangers  of  war  ag'in." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Culverhouse. 

"  Why,  since  they  can't  hear  us,"  replied  Zeb, 
"  maybe  they  can  see  us.  We  can't  stick  our  heads 
up,  for  bullets  are  unpleasant  things  to  meet.  Now 
your  hat,  with  all  its  fine  feathers,  is  just  the  thing.  I'll 
h'ist  it  on  my  ramrod  ag'in,  an'  if  they  can't  see  it  with 
all  its  gold  braid  they  can't  see  nothin'." 

The  hat  was  promptly  drafted  into  service  again. 


138 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


': 


IN    ' 


rK 


: 


a 


I  wondered  if  the  Indians  would  try  another  shot  at 
it.  I  had  no  doubt  tliey  were  still  watching  us,  and  I 
was  of  an  ccjual  positivcness  that  they  had  seen  the 
soldiers.  There  was  always  a  chance  that  some  one 
of  the  redcoats,  more  alert  than  the  others,  might  hear 
a  shot.    Would  the  Indians  risk  it? 

My  doubts  were  quickly  stilled,  for  as  soon  as  Zeb 
raised  the  gorgeous  chapcan  a  shot  was  fired  at  it.  The 
bullet  made  another  neat  round  hole  through  it,  and 
Culverhouse  uttered  a  lamentation.  But  the  Indians 
fired  no  more. 

Zeb  moved  the  hat  about,  the  gold  braid  catching 
the  rays  of  the  declining  sun.  Some  of  the  soldiers 
were  now  sitting  around  the  camp  fire  eating  their 
evening  meal.  The  sight  made  me  think  more  of  our 
hunger  than  of  our  danger.  I  felt  as  if  I  cou'"*  have 
sent  vi  shot  at  those  irritating  soldiers  had  t  been 
within  range. 

'*  Take  the  ramrod,"  said  Zeb  to  me,  "  an'  keep  on 
swingin'  the  hat  about  as  if  your  life  depended  on  it." 

I  obeyed,  and  the  next  moment  I  sprang  a  foot  in 
the  air  and  nearly  dropped  rod  and  hat.  Zeb  had  sud- 
denly put  his  hands,  trumpet  fashion,  to  his  mouth  and 
r  tiered  a  most  terrific  shriek.  It  was  at  first  a  pro- 
longed shout  that  set  my  ears  a-tingling,  and  then  it 
turned  into  a  fierce,  shrill,  and  piercing  whistle  that 
cut  the  air  like  a  bullet. 

"  How's  that  for  a  whoop?  "  asked  Zeb,  grinning. 
"  Is  there  a  sneakin'  Indian  in  all  the  American  woods 
that  can  beat  it?  Maybe  if  the  soldiers  can't  hear  a 
gun  shot  they  can  hear  my  yell.  Look  out,  it's  comin' 
agm! 

Again  he  made  the  forest  ring  and  echo  with  his 
tremendous  whoop.  Watching  the  soldiers,  I  saw  an 
unusual  movement  among  them.  Some  of  the  men 
who  had  been  sitting  down  rose  to  their  feet,  and  all 


A    FLIGHT    AND    A    FIGHT. 


139 


appeared  to  be  listening.  I  moved  the  Iiat  with  great 
vigor. 

"Shout  again,  Zeb!"  I  cried  excitedly.  "They 
hear  you !  " 

He  uttered  another  yell,  which  echoed  like  the 
shriek  of  a  panther  on  a  still  night.  We  were  assured 
now  that  they  heard  us,  and  also  saw  the  hat. 

Tra-la-la,  tra-la-loo,  tra-la-la,  ta-too,  ta-too! 

"  Smoke  me  if  they  ain't  comin'  to  help  us  with 
their  horn!"  exclaimed  Zeb. 

It  was  so.  The  trumpeter  had  his  instrument  to 
his  lips,  and  the  mellow  and  inspiring  notes  sounded 
through  the  forest.  The  men  were  falling  into  line  as 
if  they  were  going  to  march  down  Broadway,  and  we 
could  see  an  officer  gesticu'  >ting. 

"What  all-fired  notioi  ^  of  Indian  fightin'  they 
have,"  said  Zeb,  "  a-paradin'  through  the  woods  as  if 
a  lot  of  gals  was  lookin'  on  at  em  an*  admirin'  'em! 
Get  your  guns  ready,  boys!  We'll  save  as  many  as 
we  can." 

"Save  as  many  as  we  can?"  I  exclaimed  in  sur- 
prise.   "  Why,  they  are  coming  to  rescue  us." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Zeb,  "  but  I  guess  we'll  have  to 
rescue  them." 

The  truth  of  his  words  was  apparent  a  few  mo- 
ments later  to  both  Culverhouse  and  me,  slight  as  had 
been  our  experience  of  forest  warfare.  Instead  of 
sending  out  scouts  to  ascertain  what  manner  of  affair 
might  be  going  on,  at  least  half  of  the  troop  were 
marching  down  upon  us  in  regular  line  of  battle,  in 
so  far  as  the  trees  and  bushes  would  permit  them  to 
preserve  the  military  formation.  An  ambush  seemed 
inevitable. 

"  How  can  we  warn  them?"  I  whispered  to  Zeb. 

"  I  don't  know  yet,"  he  replied. 

It  was  a  fine  sight  to  see  them  coming  through 
zo 


140 


A    SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


'li 


4' 


the  forest  in  such  brave  and  jaunty  style,  heads  up, 
feet  keeping  time,  and  bright  uniforms  gleaming.  At 
their  head  marched  an  officer,  drawn  sword  in  hana. 

"  That's  Selwyn,  of  the  Buffs."  said  Culverhouse. 
"  A  chap  of  spirit.    I  knew  him  at  home." 

I  continued  to  wave  the  gaudy  hat,  and  the  sol- 
diers came  on  steadily.  They  were  halfway  to  us  when, 
without  a  word  of  warning  to  either  of  us,  Zeb  leaped 
upon  the  highest  tree  trunk  and  shouted: 

"Get  behind  the  trees!  Get  behind  the  trees! 
You're  walkin'  into  an  ambush!  Look  out!  Look 
out!" 

Then  he  dropped  back  into  the  little  fort  as  if  he 
had  been  shot,  as  he  probably  would  h^ve  been  had 
it  not  been  for  the  last  movem.ent,  for  the  rifles  v/ere 
now  heard,  and  two  or  three  bullets  sang  and  whistled 
over  our  heads.  But  the  main  volley  was  directed  at 
the  soldiers.  Fortunately  the  warning  of  Zebedee  had 
startled  the  men  so  much  that  they  obeyed  it  instinc- 
tively. They  had  broken  their  line,  and  were  springing 
for  the  shelter  of  the  tree  trunks  when  the  Indians  fired 
upon  them. 

The  savages  appeared  to  have  collected  in  a  body, 
for  the  bushes  about  fifty  yards  from  the  soldiers  were 
spouting  fire.  The  young  lieutenant  whom  Culver- 
house  had  called  Selwyn  fell,  but  one  of  the  men 
turned,  lifted  the  stricken  officer  in  his  arms,  and 
sprang  behind  a  tree  with  him.  It  was  a  most  gallant 
act,  and  Zeb  uttered  a  grunt  of  approva 

The  soldiers  began  to  fire  in  return,  but  it  was  evi- 
dent that  they  were  discharging  their  pieces  at  ran- 
dom, while  the  fire  of  the  Indians  was  telling.  I  saw 
one  redcoat  go  down,  and  then  another,  and  just  at 
that  moment  Zeb,  shouting  to  us  to  follow,  leaped 
over  our  breastwork  and  sprang  r.to  the  forest,  run- 
ning straight  for  the  Indians.     Suddenly  he  dropped 


A    FLIGHT    AND    A    FIGHT. 


141 


flat  on  his  face,  and  we  imitated  him.  Ahead  of  us  we 
saw  a  number  of  brown  figures  crouching  behind  trees 
and  firing  at  the  soldiers.  It  was  not  necessary  to  give 
any  further  orders  to  Culverhouse  and  mc.  Together 
with  Zeb  we  raised  our  pieces  and  fired  at  the  nakod 
bodies.  Just  then  the  remainder  of  the  soldiers  who 
were  coming  up  from  tb3  camp  on  the  run  fired  into 
the  thicket  where  the  Indians  lay,  making  a  deal  of 
noise,  but  not  doing  much  destruction,  I  dare  sa3^ 

,But  the  assault  from  three  points  was  too  much 
for  the  stomachs  of  the  savages.  Uttering  howls,  they 
fled  like  balked  and  ravening  wolves  into  the  depths 
of  the  forest. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

IN   THE   general's   TENT. 

When  the  Indians  darted  yelling  into  the  forest, 
Culverhouse  stood  staring  after  them,  his  mouth  open, 
and  his  gun  swinging  in  one  hand. 

"  Have  you  been  wounded,  Culverhouse?  "  I  asked, 
seizing  him  by  the  arm.  The  expression  on  his  face 
alarmed  me. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  was  merely  thinking  what 
extraordinarily  unmusical  voices  those  savages  have!  " 

"  Well,  I  hope  it  is  the  last  time  either  you  or  I 
will  hear  them,"  I  said. 

"  You  speak  like  a  wise  man,"  he  replied. 

Then  we  turned  our  attention  to  the  soldiers.  They 
were  gathering  in  a  confused  huddle,  and  there  was  a 
jangle  of  voices,  as  if  all  the  Dutch  wives  in  New 
York  were  talking  at  once  The  wounded  officer  was 
leaning  against  a  tree,  looking  very  faint.  His  fine 
red  coat  was  grievously  spattered  with  blood. 

"  Selwyn,"  said  Culverhouse,  going  up  to  him,  "  I 
am  very  glad  to  see  you,  but  loath  to  know  that  you 
are  wounded,  and  that,  too,  in  such  an  irregular  sort 
of  warfare." 

"Ah!  it  is  you,  Culverhouse,"  said  the  wounded 
officer,  showing  more  animation.  "  You  are  right  in 
condemning  this  mode  of  fighting.  It  is  irregular, 
very  irregular.  Were  it  not  for  that,  this  ball  through 
my  shoulder  would  not  pain  me  so  sorely.     And  to 

143 


IN   THE    GENERAL  S   TENT. 


143 


think  I  did  not  so  much  as  set  our  enemies!  It  passes 
all  human  patience,  and  gives  one  a  certain  distaste 
for  the  noble  art  of  war." 

These  brief  condolences  were  very  elevating  to 
the  spirits  of  both,  and  Selwyn  appeared  to  forget  his 
wound,  which  proved  to  be  not  serious. 

Three  of  the  soldiers  had  paid  the  forfeit  of  their 
lives  for  their  carelessness,  and  a  half  dozen  others 
had  wounds,  though  slight  in  most  cases.  Had  it  not 
been  for  Zeb's  warning,  I  am  sure  the  loss  would  have 
been  much  heavier.  One  slain  savage  was  found  in 
the  bushes.  More  than  a  dozen  soldiers  claimed  to 
have  shot  him,  but  I  believe  if  the  bullet  that  took  his 
life  had  been  measured  it  would  have  been  found  a 
nice  fit  for  the  barrel  of  Zebedee  Crane's  rifle. 

We  joined  the  main  army  the  next  morning,  and 
right  glad  were  Culverhouse  and  I  to  see  again  the 
splendid  force  of  England  and  her  great  colonies. 
What  were  a  few  skulking  savages  now?  An  hour 
after  our  arrival  a  sergeant  bade  us  come  to  the  tent 
of  General  Abercrombie,  the  commander  in  chief. 

The  general's  marquee  had  been  raised  upon  a  little 
hill.  It  was  large,  and  decorated  with  much  gayety  of 
color.  Over  it  the  flag  of  Britain  flaunted  proudly  in 
the  wind.  Many  officers,  mostly  young  and  in  bril- 
liant uniforms,  were  lounging  about.  We  saw  Major 
McLean  near,  and  he  gave  us  a  kindly  nod.  Then 
we  followed  the  sergeant  into  the  tent. 

General  Abercrombie  was  reposing  in  a  half-sitting 
and  comfortable  posture  in  a  kind  of  hammock  ihat 
was  swung  from  the  tent  poles.  Several  officers  of 
high  rank  were  present.  The  tent  was  furnished  with 
a  surprising  degree  of  luxury.  A  thick,  soft  carpet 
had  even  been  spread  over  the  turf. 

General  Abercrombie  raised  himsc,  a  little  when 
we  entered. 


;f^ 


gp 


144 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


tr  1': 


I  1: 


"  Are  these  the  gentlemen  of  whom  you  spoke, 
Panmure,  the  gentlemen  who  had  the  little  encounter 
with  the  red  allies  of  the  French?  "  he  asked  languidly 
of  one  of  the  officers.  He  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
me  completely. 

"  These  are  the  gentlemen,"  replied  the  officer, 
"  and  as  they  have  been  in  advance  of  us,  and,  more- 
over, have  encountered  the  enemy,  I  thought  perhaps 
they  might  have  useful  information." 

Culverhouse  and  I  had  removed  our  hats.  Zebe- 
dee  allowed  his  fur  cap  to  remain  upon  his  head. 
General  Abercrombie  at  once  noticed  this  slight  upon 
his  position  and  dignity. 

"  Are  you  aware,  sir,  that  you  are  in  the  presence 
of  the  general  in  chief?  Why  do  you  not  take  off 
your  cap?  "  he  asked  in  a  heightened  voice  of  Zebedee. 

"  I  can't,"  replied  Zebedee. 

"  Can't!    What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  the  general. 

"  It's  growed  there,"  repHed  Zebedee. 

"  Pah !  "  exclaimed  the  general  in  a  tone  of  mighty 
disgust.  "  I  thought  you  told  me,  Panmure,  that  the 
boy  was  possessed  of  great  keenness  and  intelligence. 
He  seems  to  be  a  complete  fool,  the  most  thorough 
fool  I  ever  met,  and  the  Lord  knows  I  have  seen  some 
comprehensive  fools  in  my  time." 

I  looked  at  Zeb.  The  boy's  appearance,  in  truth, 
had  changed,  or  rather  he  had  resumed  the  expression 
which  marked  him  the  first  time  I  saw  him,  the  vacant, 
staring  eyes  and  the  lank,  fallen  features. 

"Pah!  the  boy  is  a  lack-wat!"  repeated  the  gen- 
eral. 

"  If  you  will  pardon  me  for  speaking,  general,"  I 
said,  "  the  lad  is  a  master  of  woodcraft,  and  both  Lieu- 
tenant Culverhouse  and  I  owe  our  lives  to  his  skill  and 


courage." 
"  It  is 


so,"  said  Culverhouse  with  emphasis. 


! 'I: 


li   ! 


T 


f ' 


IN    THE    GENERAL  S    TENT. 


145 


"  Even  granting  that  to  be  true,  I  am  yet  to  ascer- 
tain if  he  has  been  or  will  be  of  any  service  to  us/'  re- 
plied the  general. 

I  felt  a  flush  of  anger  at  the  gratuitous  insult,  but 
I  merely  bowed,  for  it  was  the  commander  in  chief 
who  had  spoken.  Nor  did  the  smothered  laugh  of 
some  of  the  officers  make  us  feel  more  comfortable. 

*'  You  were  somewhat  in  advance  of  the  army,  ex- 
ploring for  the  enemy?"  asked  the  general. 

I  bowed  again. 

"  I  would  infer  from  what  I  have  heard  that  you 
succeeded  in  finding  the  enemy,"  said  the  general 
ironically. 

I  bowed  a  third  time. 

"  What,  then,  can  you  report  concerning  them?  " 
he  asked. 

"  We  were  surprised  by  the  savages,"  I  replied  in 
a  respectful  tone,  "  and,  as  I  have  said,  escaped  only 
through  the  skill  and  courage  of  this  boy.  The  woods 
are  full  of  these  savages,  the  allies  of  the  French,  who 
know  how  to  make  themselves  invisible  to  us,  and  at 
the  same  time  observe  all  our  movements." 

"  Do  you  think,"  asked  the  general  in  a  very  chol- 
eric tone,  "  that  I  care  how  many  of  these  skulking 
Indians  may  be  watching  our  march?  Do  you  think 
that  I  care  a  farthing,  sir,  even  if  they  had  been  watch- 
ing me  all  the  way  from  New  York,  and  should  con- 
tinue to  watch  me  until  I  camp  in  the  citadel  at  Que- 
bec?" 

I  was  taken  aback  by  this  outburst,  and  all  I  could 
do  was  to  resort  to  the  ready  and  noncommittal 
bow. 

''  They  seem  to  take  us  for  children  over  here,  eh, 
Panmure?"  said  the  general,  turning  to  the  officers. 

The  officers  laughed. 

I  was  the  only  American  present  except  Zebedee. 


146 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I'il! 


^ 


Nevertheless,  I  was  pleased  with  myself.  I  had  kept 
my  temper,  and  General  Abercrombie  had  lost  his. 

Having  had  his  fling  at  us,  he  seemed  somewhat 
mollified,  and  asked  a  number  of  questions  about  our 
skirmish. 

"  You  seem  to  have  fared  rather  badly,"  he 
said. 

*'  But  these  savages  fight  in  a  most  irregular  man- 
ner," said  Culverhouse.  "  I  do  not  believe  there  is  a 
single  rule  in  the  military  treatises  that  they  do  not 
violate." 

"  That  is  what  ails  all  the  campaigns  in  this  pestifer- 
ous country,"  said  the  general  in  a  pettish  tone. 
"  Nothing  is  done  according  to  the  rules  that  have  been 
perfected  by  ages  of  thought  and  practice.  I  have 
served  in  France  and  the  Low  Countries.  Honor  and 
glory  are  to  be  won  there.  There  you  fight  with  gen- 
tlemen and  against  gentlemen.  But  here  your  allies 
are  lank  lack-wits,  like  this  boy,  and  your  enemies  are 
savages  and  renegade  Frenchmen,  whom  you  can  not 
find.  You  march  through  a  wilderness.  Tnere  are  no 
roads,  no  towns,  nothing  to  lend  a  pleasant  savor  to 
the  troubles  and  dangers  of  a  soldier's  life.  By  my 
faith,  gentlemen,  it  is  a  most  ungrateful  task,  and  the 
only  pleasant  thing  about  it  is  the  knowledge  that  we 
will  soon  be  in  Quebec  and  put  an  end  to  it  all." 

The  officers  applauded  these  words,  which  were 
spoken  in  a  high  tone.  This  appeared  to  soothe  Gen- 
eral Abercrombie,  whose  features  relapsed  into  an  ap- 
pearance of  content. 

"  You  had  not  finished  your  most  interesting 
story,  Montague,  when  these  gentlemen  entered,"  he 
said,  turning  to  one  of  the  younger  officers.  **  You 
stopped  at  the  critical  moment  when  the  duke  found 
the  earl's  letter  to  the  duchess." 

There  was  nothing  more  for  us  to  do  but  to  make 


IN   THE    general's   T^NT. 


147 


he 


our  bows,  which  received  but  slight  acknowledgment, 
and  leave  the  marquee.  I  looked  about  for  Lord 
Howe,  but  I  was  told  later  that  he  was  with  Rogers's 
Rangers  exploring  the  country.  As  we  passed  out 
I  heard  Montague  take  up  the  thread  of  his  interesting 
narrative. 

"  He  said  he  had  seen  some  big  fools  in  his  time," 
whispered  Zebedee  Crane  in  my  ear.  **  Lordy,  an'  so 
have  I,  an'  I  ain't  near  as  old  as  he  is  neither." 

I  rejoined  my  regiment,  and  an  hour  later,  as  I  was 
passing  about  the  camp,  some  one  tapped  me  on  the 
shoulder.  I  turned  about  and  beheld  the  face  of  the 
omnipresent  Martin  Grcot  grinning  at  me  in  that  irri- 
tating fashion  of  his,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  Misfor- 
tunes are  happening,  and  I  am  enjoying  myself 
greatly." 

"  Ah,  it  is  you,  Mynheer  Groot,"  I  said,  aflfecting  a 
certain  warmth  of  welcome.  "  I  thought  you  were  a 
man  of  most  peaceful  disposition  given  up  to  gainful 
commerce,  and  here  I  behold  you  on  the  edge  of 
war." 

"  So  I  am  a  man  of  peace,"  replied  Martin,  "  and 
I  admit  that  I  am  keen  to  appreciate  the  value  of 
pounds  an^  shillings.  Even  here  I  am  pursuing  both 
peace  ix..d  pounds." 

"How  so?"  I  asked. 

"  Well,  as  for  the  first,"  he  replied,  "  you  must  re- 
member that  we  have  not  changed  commanders  in 
chief  yet." 

"  We  have  Abercrombie  in  place  of  Loudoun,"  I 
replied. 

"  The  name  is  changed,  that  is  all,"  he  replied. 
"  And  as  for  the  second  proposition — namely,  pounds 
— an  army  like  this  requires  many  supplies,  and  that 
means  contracts.  Contracts  mean  pounds,  and  here 
am  I,  Martin  Groot,  merchant,  to  earn  the  pounds,  a 


148 


A    SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


task  in  which  T  am  meeting  with  the  most  satisfactory 
success." 

"  You  appear  to  take  a  very  sordid  view  of  the 
war,"  I  said. 

"  I  am  likely  to  reap  much  more  substantial  ad- 
vantages from  it  than  you  are,"  he  said  contentedly, 
*'  and  if  by  any  accident  there  should  be  fightin^^,  I 
shall  be  very  far  in  the  rear  when  it  is  done.  I  make 
no  disguise  of  my  calling,  and  I  suspect  that  my  busi- 
ness will  come  to  a  much  more  fortunate  end  than 
General  Abercrombie's  w.ii." 

"  You  are  the  same  ill-omened  prophet  that  you 
were  in  New  York,"  I  said. 

"  I  use  my  eyes;  I  see  and  I  think,"  he  replied 
curtly.  "  Do  likewise.  You  will  find  much  profit 
m  It. 

Then  he  left  me. 

After  remaining  a  month  in  camp  at  the  head  of 
the  lake,  the  army  made  another  great  heave  and  em- 
barked for  the  passage  preparatory  to  the  assault  on 
Ticonderoga.  It  was  heavy  work  to  get  us  into  the 
boats,  of  which  there  '/ere  more  than  a  thousand,  with- 
out counting  thos^  that  carried  the  artillery,  but  start 
we  did  at  last. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE   LONE   WARRIOR. 


We  were  afloat  on  the  lake  in  the  glorious  sun- 
light of  a  brilliant  morning.  I  couM  feel  my  face  flush 
and  the  blood  leap  in  my  veins  as  I  looked  upon  the 
largest  and  finest  army  that  had  yet  been  gathered  in 
America,  advancing  with  regular  and  graceful  motion 
down  the  shining  waters  of  this  queen  of  the  moun- 
tains. Almost  from  shore  to  shore,  so  it  seemed  to 
me,  the  boats  were  spread  out  like  a  vast  flock  of 
gigantic  waterfowl.  They  contained  near  sixteen 
thousand  men,  half  of  them  British  and  the  other  half 
Americans,  the  best  and  most  warlike  of  two  conti- 
nents assembled  to  conquer  Canada,  and  to  quench 
forever  the  flame  which  had  raged  so  long  in  the  north 
and  had  scorched  us  so  often. 

Looking  upon  this  army,  my  doubts  disappeared. 
We  were  invincible.  I  could  see  now  why  General 
Abercrombie  had  laughed  at  the  mention  of  a  few 
skulking  Indians  and  Frenchmen.  There  was  noth- 
ing in  Canada  that  could  withstand  such  a  force  as 
ours.  Montcalm  might  be  brave  and  skillful,  but 
bravery  and  skill  would  be  of  small  avail  against  equal 
bravery  and  skill,  allied  with  overwhelming  numbers. 

The  army  was  in  great  spirits,  and  surely  it  had  a 
plenitude  of  reasons  for  it.  The  bands  placed  here 
and  there  through  the  fleet  played  the  latest  martial 
music  with  such  inspiring  vigor  that  we  could  scarce 

149 


fm^ 


ij'\ 


150 


A   SOLDIER    OF   MANHATTAN. 


^^1:: 


',  ;); 


k  'i 


'  :!); 


wait  for  the  sight  of  the  enemy.  This  great  burst  of 
music  floated  fa;  over  a  lake  Httle  accustomed  to  such 
sounds,  and  I  fancy  it  must  have  disturbed  the  deer 
lurking  in  the  thickets  on  the  shore. 

The  soldiers  were  as  trim  as  if  they  had  been  pre- 
pared for  dress  parade.  Here  the  red  uniforms  of  the 
British  seemed  to  form  a  solid  mass  on  the  lake.  Fur- 
ther on,  the  green  coats  of  the  New  England  Rangers 
matched  the  tints  of  the  forest  that  overhung  the  edge 
of  the  mighty  cliffs.  Near  the  center  of  the  fleet  a 
boat  larger  than  the  others,  and  covered  with  a  white 
awning  to  protect  its  occupants  from  a  too  inquisitive 
sun,  marked  the  position  of  General  Abercrombie  and 
his  staff. 

Around  us  the  scenery  was  grand  and  romantic. 
The  red  gold  of  the  sun  was  reflected  in  the  clear 
waters  of  the  lake.  The  mountain  tops  were  green 
with  forest,  and  the  great  crags  were  red  and  bronze 
and  gray  as  the  light  fell  upon  them.  Birch  and  pine 
and  fir  clustered  on  the  inlets,  and  i^he  wild  flowers 
grew  in  the  green  grass  at  the  foot  of  the  tree 
trunks. 

Culverhouse  was  with  his  regiment  near  the  right 
end  of  the  line,  but  the  Highlanders  were  ranged  along- 
side the  Royal  Americans,  and  Major  McLean  sat  in 
the  boat  next  to  the  one  in  which  I  had  a  place.  I 
noted  with  pride  that  this  old  soldier,  who  had  seen 
so  much  of  the  world  and  of  the  military  life,  was 
moved  by  the  scene.  There  was  a  sparkle  in  his  eye 
when  he  nodded  to  me  and  said : 

"  A  most  noble  sight,  young  man,  and  a  lake  and 
mountains  that  my  own  Scotland  herself  can  not  sur- 
pass." 

It  was  a  large  admission  to  come  from  him,  and  I 
felt  that  if  he  were  willing  to  say  so  much  the  truth 
must  be  even  greater. 


THE   LONE   WARRIOR. 


J5I 


"  But  it  lacks  the  history  and  the  grand  associa- 
tions wliich  our  Highland  lakes  and  mountains  pos- 
sess," he  said.    "  You  are  in  the  gristle  here." 

"  But  those  things  will  come,"  I  said.  "  And,  in 
truth,  we  are  not  altogether  without  history  as  it  is. 
Farther  down  was  where  we  beat  Dieskau  last  year. 
And  are  we  not  about  to  make  history  now?" 

"Most  truly!  most  truly!"  he  said,  "and  right 
glorious  let  it  be!  Where  away  is  this  fortress  of 
Ticonderoga  which  has  been  such  a  sore  trouble  to 
you  gentlemen  of  the  colonies? " 

"  Across  yonder,  toward  Champlain,"  I  replied. 

We  continued  our  progress  in  excellent  order  down 
the  lake  which  the  French  call  the  Lac  du  St.  Sacre- 
ment,  but  which  the  English  have  defiled  with  the 
name  of  George — a  name  which  the  Americans  use, 
too,  because  the  French  words  are  too  hard  for  tongues 
that  have  not  learned  the  foreign  twists.  Soon  we 
could  see  the  dim  outlines  of  the  ridges  beyond  which 
Ticonderoga  lay.  I  felt  a  new  thrill  when  I  looked 
upon  the  slopes  and  heights  where  we  were  going  to 
find  our  enemy.  We  would  hear  from  him  very  soon, 
I  felt  sure. 

I  had  wondered  much  as  we  came  down  the  lake 
why  we  had  not  heard  from  him  already,  but  thus  far 
we  had  encountered  no  sign  of  Montcalm  and  his  men, 
either  red  or  white.  The  same  wonder  had  stirred 
the  breast  of  Major  McLean. 

"  Do  you  think  the  Frenchman  wil!  stay  to  meet 
us?"  he  asked. 

"  Politeness  is  said  to  be  a  trait  of  the  marquis,  as 
well  as  skill  and  courage,"  I  replied. 

"  That  is  good,"  he  replied.  "  I  had  a  fear  that 
the  French  would  leave  before  we  could  get  a  glimpse 
of  them.  It  is  no  glory  for  us  to  walk  into  an  unde- 
fended fortress.    But  I  dare  say  the  French  view  with 


152 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


I 


\  ill 


1 


much  alarm  such  an  army  as  this.  Even  now,  my 
young  friend,  despite  your  words,  I  fear  that  they  have 
gone.  I  can  see  no  sign  of  a  human  being  save  those 
who  compose  this  army." 

There  was,  indeed,  a  wondrous  silence  on  the  part 
of  the  enemy.  I  began  verily  to  believe  that  Montcalm, 
as  the  major  suggested,  had  abandoned  Ticonderoga 
and  was  now  in  full  flight  to  Canada  with  his  French 
and  Indians.  But  that  was  not  the  character  of  Mont- 
calm, the  leader  whose  martial  exploits  even  his  ene- 
mies were  compelled  to  admire. 

Some  changes  in  the  line  presently  brought  our 
boat  near  to  that  of  the  commander  in  chief.  The  large 
boat  was  crowded  with  officers  in  their  most  brilliant 
uniforms,  all  showing  the  greatest  animation.  Gen- 
eral Abercrombie  shared  in  the  common  eagerness. 
He  had  his  large  military  glasses  to  his  eyes,  and  was 
studying  the  distant  slopes. 

"  I  can  make  nothing  of  it,  Panmure,"  he  said. 
"  Even  through  the  glasses  I  am  no  more  able  to  dis- 
cover life  up  there  than  I  am  with  the  naked  eye." 

"  Montcalm  is  a  fox,  they  say,  general,"  said  Pan- 
mure. 

"  Then  it  seems  likely  we  shall  have  a  fox  chase  all 
the  way  from  here  to  Quebec,"  replied  the  commander 
in  chief. 

There  was  a  shout  of  approving  laughter  at  the 
jest,  and  a  moment  later  all  the  bands  began  to  play 
O  Richard!  O  mon  Roi! 

"  It  is  a  French  air,"  said  Major  McLean,  "  but  it 
will  serve  well  enough  for  us.  May  we  fight  to-day 
for  the  glory  of  the  King,  Lieutenant  Chart^ris.  And 
may  we  always  do  our  duty  to  the  King,  lieutenant." 

"  May  we  always  do  our  duty  to  the  King,"  I  said, 
"  and  may  the  King  always  do  his  duty  to  us." 

"  It  is  a  bold  spirit,  and  sometimes  a  reckless  one 


THE    LONE   WARRIOR. 


153 


you  gentlemen  of  the  colonies  show,"  he  said  reprov- 
ingly. 

'*  It  is  the  spirit  that  we  have  inherited  from  our 
English  and  Scotch  forefathers,".  I  replied. 

"  Perhaps  I  should  not  criticise  it,"  he  said,  and  re- 
ferred no  more  to  the  subject. 

The  general  was  still  examining  the  ridges  through 
his  military  glasses  when  a  canoe  containing  a  single 
occupant  came  from  behind  a  screen  of  woods  ahead 
of  us. 

"A  Huron!"  I  exclaimed. 

"  One  of  our  savage  enemies,"  said  the  major. 

The  Indian  paddled  his  canoe  farther  out  into  the 
lake,  but  kept  directly  in  front  of  us.  Then  he  turned 
and  looked  back  at  the  army.  The  speed  of  the  entire 
fleet  slackened  in  unison,  the  same  feeling  seizing  all, 
I  suppose. 

"  Some  wandering  fisherman  or  hunter,"  said  the 
major. 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  a  warrior." 

The  sun  fell  full  upon  the  warrior,  and  revealed 
every  feature  of  his  face  and  all  the  outlines  of  his 
shining  and  almost  naked  body.  He  was  scarcely  be- 
yond rifle  shot,  but  he  regarded  us  with  as  much  calm 
and  unconcern  as  if  we  were  a  flock  of  waterfowl.  His 
hair  was  gathered  in  the  scalp  lock,  and  his  face  and 
body  glistened  with  the  war  paint.  He  was  young  and 
of  imposing  figure. 

"  A  fierce-looking  creature,"  said  the  major.  "  His 
gaze  makes  me  think  of  some  of  our  own  wild  High- 
landers." 

"  And  probably  he  would  be  a  match  for  any  of 
them,"  I  said. 

"Perhaps!  perhaps!"  replied  the  major  in  an  in- 
credulous tone. 

The  sudden  appearance  of  the  savage  had  created 


?'-»»«!ft*»t«— ^  ,*■■*, 


154 


A  SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


\\(\ 


much  stir  among  the  brilHant  crowd  in  the  boat  of 
the  commander  in  chief. 

"  An  enemy  at  last,  general  I  "  cried  Panmure.  "  Or 
perhaps  it  is  a  m€ssenger  come  to  treat  for  peace." 

"  If  the  latter  be  true,"  said  General  Abercrombie, 
"  I  shall  refuse  to  receive  him  in  such  a  scanty  uni- 
form. It  is  a  lack  of  respect  to  me,  and  I  shall  hold 
M.  Montcalm  responsible  for  it." 

All  the  officers,  remembering  their  duty,  laughed 
at  the  general's  humor. 

"  He  is  no  messenger  of  surrender,"  I  said  to  Major 
McLean. 

"  Nor  do  I  think  so  either,"  he  replied,  "  though 
I  am  unaccustomed  to  the  ways  of  these  creatures  of 
the  wilderness.  But  certainly  there  is  more  of  defi- 
ance than  friendliness  in  that  savage's  attitude." 

With  easy  and  scarce  perceptible  stroke  the  sav- 
age propelled  his  canoe,  the  distance  between  him 
and  the  army  neither  widening  nor  narrowing.  Nor 
did  he  once  remove  his  gaze  from  us.  It  was  an  odd 
sight.  As  we  moved  down  the  lake  it  looked  as  if  all 
that  great  army  of  near  twenty  thousand  men  was  pur- 
suing a  lone  Indian. 

'*  By  my  faith,  the  savage  seems  to  defy  all  the 
power  of  Great  Britain!"  said  the  major. 

So  it  reemed. 

Thus  wt  advanced  some  distance,  and  the  heavy 
murmur  that  rose  up  from  the  army  told  that  the  war- 
rior had  aroused  the  curiosity  of  all  the  soldiers.  Pres- 
ently he  gave  several  prolonged  and  vigorous  sweeps 
with  his  paddle.  The  boat  curved  about  and  shot 
toward  a  little  cove. 

"  He  is  going  to  leave  us,"  said  the  major.  "  This 
•^rmy  was  a  rare  sight  for  him.  I  dare  say  he  will 
never  again  look  unon  such  a  martial  spectacle." 

The  canoe  struck  lightly  against  the  bank,  and  the 


inipipp" 


ttli 


THE    LONE    WARRIOR. 


155 


Indian  stepped  out.    He  faced  us,  rifle  in  hand,  as  erect 
and  strong  as  a  young  oak.     For  a  moment  he  re- 
garded us  seemingly  with  more  intensity  than  ever 
Then  he  raised  his  rifle,  discharged  it  into  the  air,  and 
uttenng  a  long  and  thrilling  whoop,  vanished  in  the 
forest. 

Then  I  knew  that  Montcalm  was  waiting  for  us. 


IX 


m 
1/ 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


r 


i!       ( 
It      ! 


H : 
1^ 


i  'i 


..V  A   SUDDEN    ENCOUNTER. 

The  entire  army  landed  the  next  day,  and  ou^ 
general  prepared  for  a  speedy  assault  on  the  fortress. 
At  least  he  issued  orders  to  that  purpose,  for  General 
Abercrombie  himself  did  not  appear  at  the  front.  It 
was  said  that  he  was  remaining  further  back  in  order 
that  he  might  have  a  better  opportunity  to  observe  the 
movements  of  all  the  divisions  of  the  army.  I  had 
always  thought  that  a  good  general  would  be  in  the 
van.  But  I  was  inexperienced,  and  began  to  see  how 
much  I  had  to  learn  before  I  could  truthfully  say  I 
knew  the  military  art. 

Our  colonel  selected  me  to  lead  a  small  party  of 
skirmishers.  My  bit  of  experience  in  the  woods  with 
Culverhouse  and  Zeb  Crane  had  won  me  the  honor, 
and  I  was  much  gratified  when  I  set  forward  with 
my  half  dozen  men.  We  entered  the  forest,  and  began 
to  make  our  way  with  as  little  noise  as  we  could  toward 
Ticonderoga. 

"  Say,  leftenant,  you  don't  want  to  go  a-scoutin' 
without  me,  do  you?" 

I  looked  around  and  saw  that  Will-o'-the-wisp,  Zeb 
Crane,  and  glad  enough  I  was  to  have  him  with  us 
on  the  dangerous  business  we  were  about  to  under- 
take. 

"I've  got  pretty  good  eyes,  leftenant,  an'  know 
a  bit  about  the  woods,"  he  said,  "  an'  don't  you  forget 

156 


A   SUDDEN    ENCOUNTER. 


157 


that  the  Frenchers  are  watchin'  up  there.  The  army's 
been  landed  now  a  good  while,  an'  Montcalm  knows 
everythin'  that's  been  done." 

"  But  what  good,"  said  I,  "  can  it  do  him?  We 
have  five  men  to  his  one,  and  half  of  his  force  are  ir- 
regulars. We  have  a  splendid  army,  and  he  has  a 
rabble." 

**  I  ain't  doin'  any  talkin'  on  that  p'int,"  said  Zeb 
phlegmatically.  "  I've  come  along  to  go  a-scoutin' 
with  you,  an'  when  I  go  a-scoutin'  I  go  a-scoutin'." 

We  were  now  in  the  deep  woods,  and  the  time  for 
talk  had  ceased,  for  in  the  presence  of  such  an  enemy 
as  we  had  to  face  noise  was  a  crime.  Before  starting 
upon  the  expedition  I  had  discarded  my  officer's  uni- 
form, and  donned  the  green  of  a  New  England  ranger. 
My  men  were  clad  similarly.  Thus  we  were  of  the 
color  of  the  young  foliage  of  the  forest,  and  offered 
no  bright  mark  for  observation  and  for  rifle  shots. 

I  was  anxious  to  get  a  glimpse  of  our  enemy.  So 
far,  save  for  the  lone  Indian  in  the  boat,  I  had  seen 
neither  red  face  nor  white.  But  as  wc  were  making 
our  way  toward  Ticonderoga,  it  was  not  like  ly  that 
we  would  remain  unrewarded  long.  We  pushed  on 
nearly  half  a  mi'  ,  and  then,  prompted  by  Zeb's  warn- 
ing whisper,  we  stopped  awhile  in  some  dense  under- 
growt'i.  He  suggested  that  we  would  better  advance 
now  ii    Indian  fashion. 

I  to  k  him  at  his  word,  and  ordered  the  men  to 
scatter  about  in  the  undergrowth  and  crawl  toward 
Ticonderoga.  We  were  to  reassemble  in  an  hour 
beside  a  large  bowlder  near  by.  Zeb  slipped  into  a 
thicket  and  disappeared  as  noiselessly  as  a  snake.  My 
men  spread  out  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  while  I 
went  straight  forward,  stooping  over  and  stepping 
with  great  care. 

It  is  not  an  altogether  easy  or  reassuring  thing 


rr  f 


158 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


1: 


to  creep  up  on  an  enemy  whom  you  know  to  be  vigilant 
by  nature,  and  consequently  I  used  my  eyes  and  my 
ears  to  their  fullest  extent.  Every  time  I  advanced  a 
dozen  feet  or  so  I  stopped  to  listen  and  to  look.  Then 
I  would  resume  my  advance. 

I  must  say,  though  disclaiming  any  attempt  at 
boasting,  that  I  felt  a  thrill  of  gratification  as  well  as 
excitement.  The  suspense  of  the  moment  and  the  im- 
portance of  the  coming  events  excited  me  and  aroused 
within  me  such  an  intense  desire  to  distinguish  myself 
that  I  thought  little  just  then  of  possible  wounds  or 
death.  I  felt  an  exhilaration  which  was  wholly  absent 
when  I  was  preparing  for  the  duel  with  Spencer. 

I  came  presently  to  a  little  knoll,  from  which  I 
could  get  a  good  view  of  the  ridge  in  front  of  Ticon- 
deroga,  -'vhere  we  had  been  told  a  French  force  lay. 
The  woods  were  dense  at  that  point,  but  there  was  a 
rift  in  the  trees  through  which  I  could  see  the  ridge 
very  well. 

I  dropped  down  on  my  knees  behind  one  of  the 
trees  and  tried  to  catch  some  evidence  of  life  on  the 
ridge.  But  I  could  see  no  living  creature.  Once 
there  was  a  flash  of  light  like  a  ray  of  the  sun  glancing 
oflf  the  gleaming  surface  of  a  bayonet,  but  I  was  not 
sure  that  such  was  the  cause,  and  the  rift  in  the  foliage 
was  not  wide  enough  to  permit  further  examination. 

While  I  still  looked  I  heard  a  slight  noise  in  the 
bushes  ahead  of  me.  It  might  have  been  made  by  a 
lizard  or  a  bird,  but  since  our  adventure  with  the 
Hurons  I  had  learned  to  suspect  everything  in  these 
woods.  I  sank  lower  and  hugged  the  tree.  Then  I 
was  rewarded  for  my  caution.  I  heard  the  crumpling 
of  the  leaves  and  grass  again,  and  I  believed  that  some 
one  was  coming.  I  took  a  peep  around  the  tree,  but 
saw  nothing.  The  noise  had  ceased  suddenly.  I  with- 
drew my  head  and  listened  again. 


A   SUDDEN    ENCOUNTER. 


159 


I  heard  a  soft  crush  as  of  a  footstep,  and  then  a 
faint  trembling  of  the  air,  as  of  some  one  breathing 
very  near  me.  I  moved  quickly,  and  the  stock  of  my 
gun  rattled  lightly  against  a  stone.  I  drew  up  my 
gun  in  an  instant  and  shrank  against  the  tree.  I  still 
heard  the  restrained  breathing  so  near  to  me.  Some 
one  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  tree!  Whoever  it  was, 
it  was  certainly  an  enemy,  and  I  was  sure  that  he  was 
aware  of  my  presence.  If  I  could  hear  him  he  could 
hear  me ! 

The  tree  was  large,  perhaps  three  feet  in  diameter, 
and  I  could  see  nothing  of  the  person  on  the  other 
side.  It  was  an  absurd  and  yet  a  dangerous  situation. 
I  could  not  look  around  the  tree  to  see  who  was  there, 
for  if  I  dared  to  do  so  I  would  probably  receive  a  bullet 
or  a  tomahawk  in  my  brain,  and  that  would  be  an  end 
to  my  fine  military  career.  I  could  not  withdraw,  for 
then  I  would  suffer  a  similar  exposure.  So  for  a  time 
I  lay  quite  still  and  listened  to  the  breathing  of  the 
stranger,  as  I  have  no  doubt  he  was  listening  to 
mine. 

I  waited  quite  awhile  for  the  man  to^  make  a  move- 
ment, but  he  made  none.  The  affair  was  bound  to  end 
somehow,  so  I  began  to  creep  around  the  tree,  think- 
ing that  perhaps  I  might  be  able  to  seize  my  enemy 
at  a  disadvantage.  But  as  I  crept  around  I  heard  him 
creeping  also. 

Whether  he  was  trying  to  escape  me  or  to  seize  me 
I  could  not  tell,  but  his  movements  kept  pace  with 
mine,  and  by  and  by  I  found  myself  on  the  Ticon- 
deroga  side  of  the  tree,  while  my  enemy  was  on  the 
side  facing  our  camp,  and  neither  of  us  had  been  able 
to  catch  even  the  most  fleeting  glimpse  of  the  other. 

This  added  another  disagreeable  feature  to  the  situ- 
ation. Any  of  the  skirmishers  of  the  enemy  coming 
from  the  direction  of  Ticonderoga  would  be  almost 


s 


.'  n 


w^ 


if  ■> . 

It. 

I 


.  t 


\4   li- 


^  1i-' 


k 

ir  i 


K  1 


f'    t    111 


li- 


pi  ( 


i6o 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


sure  to  see  me.  I  must  get  back  on  my  own  side  of  the 
tree.  Doubtless  the  stranger  would  be  as  willing  as 
I  to  make  the  exchange,  for  he  -was  exposed  in  the 
same  manner  that  T  was. 

I  began  to  creep  back,  and  the  man,  whoever  he 
was,  immediately  did  the  same.  In  two  minutes  I  was 
back  in  my  first  position,  and  the  tree  was  still  be- 
tween me  and  mine  enemy.  I  had  not  so  much  as  seen 
a  tip  of  his  finger  or  a  hair  of  his  head. 

Despite  my  peril,  I  was  tempted  to  laugh.  Were 
we  to  spend  an  entire  day  there  revolving  around  a  tree 
trunk  and  preserving  the  same  distance  between  us  all 
the  while?  I  was  convinced  that  my  antagonist,  or 
rather  partner,  in  this  matter  was  an  Indian  warrior, 
and  I  feared  that  his  forest  cunning  would  speedily 
enable  him  to  devise  some  scheme  for  my  taking  off. 
I  believed  that  I  must  forestall  him  if  I  expected  to 
see  another  sundown. 

When  I  put  on  the  forest  garb  I  had  laid  aside  my 
sword  and  taken  in  its  place  a  knife,  after  the  hunter 
fashion.  I  leaned  my  rifle  against  the  tree,  for  it  would 
be  impossible  ipr  me  to  use  that  weapon  at  such  close 
quarters,  and  drew  the  knife.  My  mind  was  quite  made 
up  to  risk  all  in  a  sudden  movement. 

Having  steadied  my  nerves,  I  rushed  around  to 
the  opposite  side  of  the  tree  and  came  into  violent 
contact  with  a  heavy  body  that  was  coming  at  a  con- 
siderable rate  of  speed  in  my  direction.  I  was  thrown 
down,  but  retained  my  grasp  on  my  knife,  and  leaped 
lightly  to  my  feet,  facing  my  antagonist. 

My  eyes  met  those  of  an  alert,  handsome  young 
Frenchman,  who  was  clad  very  much  as  I  was,  in 
dark-green  hunting  costume.  He  held  in  his  hand  a 
small  rapier.  We  were  so  close  together  that  we  might 
have  struck  down  each  other  with  simultaneous  blows, 
but  something,  I  know  not  what,  made  me  hold  my 


A   SUDDEN    ENCOUNTER. 


l6l 


hand.  Perhaps  the  Frenchman  held  his  for  the  same 
unknown  reason. 

He  was  not  older  than  I,  and  doubtless  had  seen 
no  more  of  war.  At  least,  that  was  my  first  impres- 
sion. It  would  have  been  an  easy  enough  matter  for 
me  to  plunge  my  knife  in  his  breast,  and  probably  it 
was  my  duty  as  a  soldier  to  do  so.  But  nothing  was 
further  from  my  desire.  On  the  contrary,  he  looked 
like  a  man  whose  life  I  would  much  rather  save  than 
take.  There  was  a  dubious,  but  on  the  whole  friendly, 
look  in  his  eye.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  I  was 
no  less  sorely  puzzled  than  I  was  when  the  tree  was 
between  us.  I  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes.  He 
held  his  rapier  ready  as  if  for  a  thrust,  but  he  smiled. 
Then  I  blurted  out: 

"  If  you  will  retreat,  I  will!" 

I  do  not  know  why  I  said  it,  and  I  fear  much  it 
was  unmilitary,  but  I  have  never  been  sorry  that  I  said 
it.  I  dare  say  he  did  not  understand  a  word  of  Eng- 
lish, but  he  took  in  my  meaning.  He  stepped  back 
from  me,  and  I  began  to  withdraw  in  the  other  direc- 
tion. When  a  dozen  paces  separated  us,  he  gave  me 
a  fine  military  salute  with  his  rapier,  bowed  very  low, 
and  disappeared  in  the  woods  toward  Ticonderoga. 

I  never  saw  him  again,  but  I  know  he  was  a  gallant 
gentleman. 

I  had  found  the  enemy,  though  not  in  the  precise 
manner  and  with  the  results  that  I  had  expected.  But 
I  had  found  him.  That  fact  was  obvious.  Therefore 
I  veered  off  to  the  right  in  the  direction  in  which  Zeb 
Crane  had  gone,  hoping  to  fall  in  with  him.  My 
hope  was  fulfilled,  for  when  I  had  gone  twenty  yards 
he  came  out  of  the  bushes  and  greeted  me. 

"  Have  you  found  the  French?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  I  said. 

"How  many?"  he  asked. 


w^ 


i    i 


162 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


1  \ 


',)■      ill 


>  'I 


"I  do  not  know,"  I  replied,  telling  the  thing  that 
was  not  with  a  whole  conscience.  "  It  was  merely 
a  stray  glimpse  of  their  uniforms,  and  then  they  dis- 
appeared in  the  woods.    I  do  not  think  they  saw  me." 

"  Must  have  been  the  same  force  that  I  sighted," 
said  Zeb  musingly.  "  There's  a  strong  party  of  French 
not  two  hundred  yards  from  us.  I  guess  they're  on  the 
same  business  that  we  are,  scoutin',  only  there's  a  lot 
more  of  'em." 

I  thought  it  wise  to  fall  back,  in  view  of  this  dis- 
closure, but  I  did  not  feel  like  saying  so,  inasmuch 
&s  I  was  an  officer  and  also  the  commander  of  the 
scouting  party.  But  this  was  a  dilemma  which  was 
very  quickly  decided  for  me.  We  heard  a  rifle  shot 
a  hundred  yards  ahead,  immediately  followed  by  an- 
other much  nearer.  There  was  a  heavy  trampling  in 
the  undergrowth,  and  Porley,  one  of  my  men,  ran  up. 
His  left  hand  was  bleeding. 

"  A  Frenchman  fired  at  me,  leftenant,"  he  said, 
"  and  his  bullet  gave  me  this  scrape  across  the  hand. 
I  returned  the  shot.  We've  stirred  'em  up  at  last,  for  a 
whole  swarm  of  French  are  coming  down  on  us." 

"  I  guess  we'd  better  fall  back,"  suggested  Zeb, 
"  as  they're  likely  to  be  too  many  for  us.  'Pears  to 
me  the  battle  for  Fort  Ticonderoga  has  begun." 

We  retreated  rapidly  to  the  place  designated  as  the 
point  for  reassembling,  and  in  a  few  moments  all  my 
men  were  there  with  me. 

The  ground  was  suitable  for  defense,  and  I  was 
disinclined  to  fall  back  farther,  especially  as  the  sound 
of  firing  was  likely  to  bring  us  re-enforcements.  We 
hid  ourselves  behind  trees  and  stones,  and  there  was 
not  any  time  to  waste  either,  for  just  as  the  last  man 
secured  shelter  a  volley  from  at  least  twenty  rifles  was 
fired  at  us,  and  the  bullets  made  a  pretty  whistling  over 
our  heads. 


A   SUDDEN    ENCOUNTER. 


163 


Our  assailants  were  a  strong  band  of  French,  and 
they  were  coming  on  most  zealously  until  they  re- 
ceived our  return  fire,  when  their  enthusiasm  was 
much  dashed.  Then  they  too  sought  cover,  and  for 
a  few  minutes  there  was  some  very  fine  and  stirring 
skirmishing.  The  rifles  kept  up  a  rattling  pop!  pop! 
and  one  of  my  men  went  down.  The  enemy  outnum- 
bered us  so  greatly  that  we  would  have  been  driven 
back,  but  we  heard  a  cheer  behind  us,  and  a  squad  of 
redcoats,  led  by  an  officer  in  brilliant  uniform,  dashed 
to  our  rescue. 

"Charge  them,  men!"  cried  the  officer.  "Drive 
them  into  the  fort!  " 

The  men  rushed  boldly  forward.  The  French  re- 
ceived them  with  a  desultory  volley  and  retired.  I  had 
joined  in  the  charge,  and  was  near  the  officer  when  I 
saw  him  stop,  look  around  in  a  bewildered  way,  and 
then  fall  in  a  soft  lump  to  the  earth.  I  seized  him  -And 
lifted  him  up,  but  I  knew  that  he  was  very  badly 
wounded. 

All  the  men  stopped  and  seemed  to  be  overwhelmed 
by  the  disaster.  Then  I  saw  his  face,  and  recognized 
the  gallant  young  Lord  Howe,  the  well-deserved 
favorite  of  the  army. 

We  lifted  him  in  our  arms  and  carried  him  back 
toward  our  lines.  But  long  before  we  reached  them  it 
became  apparent  that  he  had  received  his  death  wound. 

"  Oh,  cursed  ambition ! "  he  murmured,  as  if  to 
himself,  "  to  have  brought  me  so  soon  to  this! " 

Soon  afterward  he  died. 

I  was  learning  very  early  the  cost  of  war  and 
glory. 

But  amid  the  bustle  of  the  preparations  for  taking 
Ticonderoga  there  was  little  time  to  mourn.  Three 
days  after  the  embarkation  on  Lake  George  we  moved 
forward  for  the  great  task. 


^ 


M' 


CHAPTER   XV. 


THE   ASSAULT. 


!fi! 


"  It's  a  story  that  will  be  told  within  an  hour," 
said  Culverhouse  as  our  army  formed  for  the  assault, 
"  and  the  last  word  will  be  said  inside  the  walls  of 
Ticonderoga." 

"  But  the  artillery  ha^    tOt  arrived,"  I  said. 

"  It  is  not  a  matter  of  consequence,"  said  Culver- 
house.    "  The  bayonet  will  do  the  work." 

"  And  do  not  forget  the  Highlanders,"  said  Major 
McLean.     "'  They  mean  to  go  into  the  fortress  first." 

The  old.  Scotchman  was  all  animation  and  fire  as  he 
made  ready  for  the  battle,  and  he  only  laughed  when 
Culverhouse  said: 

"  I  think  an  English  regiment  will  have  that  pleas- 
ure, and  I  suspect  that  it  will  be  a  regiment  in  which 
I  have  the  honor  of  holding  a  commission." 

"  Very  likely,"  I  said,  '*  when  both  of  you  get  into 
Ticonderoga  you  will  find  Americans  there  to  bid  you 
welcome." 

"  It's  a  fine  rivalry,  and  augurs  well,"  said  the 
major.  "  But  we  will  make  a  compromise,  and  all 
go  in  together." 

The  forest  now  resounded  with  stirring  sounds, 
and  red  coat  and  yellow  epaulet  blazed  against  the 
background  of  woodland  green.  The  mountains  re- 
turned the  echoes  of  trumpet  and  shriller  fife,  while 
the  steady  rat-a-tat,  rat-a-tat  of  the  drums,  as  persist- 

164 


THE   ASSAULT. 


165 


ent  as  the  buzzinp^  of  flies,  stirred  the  spirit  of  every 
one  who  had  warhke  blood  in  his  veins.  All  around 
us  was  the  vast  hum  of  a  great  army  forming  for 
speedy  action.  Off  in  front  the  snarling  of  rifles  told 
us  that  the  skirmishers  were  at  their  trade,  thrown  out 
like  antennae  to  feel  for  the  enemy.  The  angry  crackle 
was  steadily  growing  louder,  and  the  occasional  spurts 
of  flame  in  the  undergrowth  and  the  cry  of  some 
stricken  soldier  showed  that  the  fire  was  beginning  to 
scorch.     '  - 

It  was  now  that  I  had  a  chance  to  see  how  a  vet- 
eran conducted  himself  when  going  into  battle.  Major 
McLean's  figure  seemed  to  expand,  and  he  maintained 
a  very  erect  carriage,  but  his  manner  was  extremely 
precise.  There  was  no  trace  of  excitement  about  him. 
He  spoke  in  calm  tones,  as  if  he  weighed  his  words. 
But  his  eyes  were  flashing,  and  his  head  was  poised  like 
that  of  a  hound  that  has  the  scent. 

The  regiments  were  in  line  now,  and  were  moving 
forward  into  more  open  ground.  I  was  glad  to  see 
that  the  Highlanders  were  next  to  us.  We  would  try 
to  beat  these  famous  troops  into  the  fortress,  and  if 
we  succeeded  it  would  bring  much  glory  to  the  colonial 
forces. 

As  we  approached  the  open  the  fire  of  the  skir- 
mishers grew  hotter.  They  were  stinging  us  like  bees. 
Not  ten  feet  from  me  one  of  our  men  received  a  bullet 
in  his  brain,  and  with  a  little  gasp  fell  over  quite  dead. 
Whether  I  felt  fear  or  not  I  can  not  say,  for  every 
nerve  was  throbbing  with  excitement.  But  I  did  know 
that  I  felt  an  intense  desire  to  rush  forward,  beat  the 
enemy  down,  grasp  the  victory,  and  have  the  whole 
thing  over  at  once.  Some  of  our  men  were  quite  white 
in  the  face,  as  if  all  the  blood  had  retreated  to  the  heart, 
while  others  were  red,  as  if  all  the  blood  had  left  the 
heart  and  gone  to  the  face.    But  there  was  no  flinch- 


i66 


A    SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


HI 


I    \ 


f 

ill  li  ,is 


ing,  whatever  they  may  have  felt.  I  noticed  that  whh 
pleasure  and  pride.  Our  lines  were  full  as  stanch  and 
as  steady  as  those  of  the  kilted  and  bare-legged  High- 
landers. Splendid  men  were  they,  but  no  more  robust 
than  our  own  tough  and  enduring  Americans. 

We  came  into  the  open,  and  far  away  on  either 
side  of  us  ran  the  lines  of  the  army,  columns  deep,  a 
magnificent,  gleaming  multitude,  flashing  under  the 
bright  sun  with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  Ahead 
of  us  was  a  field  covered  with  fallen  trees,  looking  as  if 
a  hurricane  had  swept  over  it,  and  on  the  far  side  of 
the  open,  running  along  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  was  a 
breastwork,  or  abatis,  the  white  uniforms  of  the  French 
lining  it  in  a  triple  row.  Beyond  that  ridge  lay  Ticon- 
deroga,  but  the  breastwork  must  be  taken  first. 

The  skirmishers  of  the  enemy  had  been  driven  in 
and  their  fire  ceased.  For  a  moment  a  silence  pos- 
sessed the  field,  which  was  already  sprinkled  with 
bodies.  Then  there  was  a  flash  of  light  along  the  en- 
tire front  of  the  army.  It  was  the  sun  glancing  over 
the  bayonets  as  the  men  raised  them,  for  we  were  to 
carry  the  abatis  with  a  bayonet  charge. 

"  The  bayonet  is  the  British  soldier's  weapon,"  said 
Major  McLean  contentedly,  as  he  looked  at  the  splen- 
did spectacle.  "  Nothing  in  the  world  can  stand 
against  the  Briton  and  his  bayonet.  This  may  not 
be  Malplaquet  or  Ramillies,  but  it  will  be  a  day  to 
remember." 

The  army  drew  in  its  breath  and  began  to  advance 
again  with  measured  step,  though  all  but  the  veterans 
were  eager  to  rush  forward  at  once.  The  sun  poured 
down  a  vast  flood  of  light  upon  us,  and  everything 
seemed  to  swell  to  twice  its  natural  size.  The  angry 
crackle  from  the  rifles  of  the  French  skirmishers  gave 
us  another  salute.  Their  bullets  pattered  like  rain- 
drops on  dry  leaves.    They  had  taken  up  a  new  posi- 


THE   ASSAULT. 


167 


tion  in  the  foliape  which  nearly  hid  the  breastwork, 
and  we  presented  to  them  a  pi'Htterinp;'  mark. 

As  we  advanced  I  noticed  the  puffs  of  smoke  and 
fire,  and  I  woukl  wonder,  in  a  vapfiie  sort  of  way, 
whether  the  bullet  would  find  a  victim.  And,  in  truth, 
many  took  the  lives  that  they  were  sent  to  find.  We 
were  leavinjj  behind  us  a  trail  of  the  hurt  and  the  dead, 
and  I  felt  the  sweat  wet  upon  my  face.  The  men  were 
eaten  up  with  impatience.  Angry  exclamations  broke 
from  them.  They  wanted  to  know  why  we  did  not 
charge  instead  of  creeping  along  at  this  snail's  pace 
and  letting  the  enemy  shoot  us  at  their  leisure.  In 
common  with  the  other  officers,  I  ordered  them  to  be 
silent,  and  threatened  them  with  my  sword,  but  I  must 
confess  that  I  was  as  impatient  as  they. 

"Well  done,  lieutenant,  well  done!"  said  Major 
McLean,  who  stalked  up  and  down  in  front  of  the 
Highlanders  sword  in  hand.  "  You  bear  yourself  well 
for  your  first  battle,  and  so  do  your  countrymen." 

He  was  down  near  the  end  of  the  Highlanders, 
where  I  could  hear  him  easily,  and  his  words  were 
grateful  to  us  all. 

A  long,  piercing,  wailing  shriek,  like  the  cry  of 
a  panther  at  night,  rose  suddenly  from  the  rear  line 
of  the  Highlanders.  It  was  the  music  of  the  bagpipes, 
which  I  had  once  heard  Culverhouse  say  was  alone 
sufficient  to  frighten  all  the  French  back  into  the 
farthest  wilds  of  Canada.  Then  came  a  great  burst 
of  music  from  the  bands,  the  drums  beat  the  charge, 
and  we  broke  into  a  run  upon  the  breastwork. 

We  raised  a  mighty  shout  as  we  sprang  forward. 
I  was  waving  my  sword  furiously  at  intervals,  and 
then  pointing  with  it  in  the  direction  of  the  wooden 
wall.  My  heart  was  beating  heavily,  and  millions  of 
black  specks  danced  before  my  eyes. 

The  dropping  fire  of  the  skirmishers  ceased,  and 


km 


i68 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


vi^ 


r 


then  the  silence  of  a  few  moments  was  broken  by  a 
succession  of  heavy  crashes  which  seemed  to  roll  from 
left  to  right.  The  twelve-pounders  and  the  eighteen- 
pounders  were  talking  now,  and  they  spoke  the  last 
words  he  ever  heard  in  many  a  man's  ear.  But  we 
swept  on  toward  the  fortress,  shouting  and  cheering 
each  other.  We  were  foot  to  foot  with  the  High- 
landers, and  ofT  to  our  left  the  red  lines  of  the  Eng- 
lish and  the  New  Englanders  were  bearing  forward  in 
a  vast,  converging  mass  upon  Ticonderoga. 

Sheets  of  flame  split  the  smoke  that  eddied  around 
the  fortress,  and  occasionally  by  the  red  light  we  savv' 
the  gunners  working  at  the  guns  and  the  skirmishers 
in  the  timber  loading  and  firing  their  rifles. 

"  A  hot  fire,  a  very  hot  fire!  "  shouted  Major  Mc- 
Lean in  my  ear,  "  but  the  hotter  it  is  the  greater  the 
glory  for  us." 

I  would  have  preferred  less  heat. 

He  seemed  to  say  more,  but  the  roar  of  the  cannon 
was  now  too  great  for  me  to  hear  his  words,  and  as 
we  rapidly  approached  the  breastwork  a  new  and  ter- 
rific din  was  added.  It  was  the  rattle  of  the  small 
arms,  as  steady  as  the  rush  of  a  torrent,  and  sharper 
and  fiercer  than  the  deep  boom  of  the  great  guns. 
From  the  wooden  wall  the  French  v;ere  pouring  upon 
us  a  deadly  fire  from  hundreds  of  rifles  and  muskets. 
The  bullets  sang  among  us  like  the  hissing  of  a  million 
rattlesnakes,  and  curses  and  shouts  of  pain  from  our 
men  were  mingled  with  the  infernal  uproar. 

One  of  our  lieutenants,  John  Norton,  whom  I  had 
known  nearly  all  my  life,  pitched  over  directly  in  front 
of  me,  his  sword  breaking  in  pieces  as  he  fell.  I  stum- 
bled against  him.  but,  recovering  m.yself,  leaped  shud- 
deringly  over  his  body  and  ran  on.  I  was  not  hurt  so 
far  as  I  knew,  but  I  was  not  conscious  of  anything 
save  a  fierce  desire  to  get  over  the  breastwork  and  at 


THE   ASSAULT. 


169 


the  enemy.  I  suppose  that  human  feeling  had  fled 
from  me,  and  the  animal  that  lurks  in  us  all  had  taken 
supreme  cont»-ol. 

Our  front  lines  seemed  to  crumble  away,  but  the 
lines  behind  took  their  place.  A  strange,  nauseating 
odor  as  of  blended  smoke  and  blood  assailed  us,  and  for 
the  moment  sickened  me.  The  fillip  of  a  bullet  that 
nicked  my  wrist  as  it  passed  stung  me  to  renewed 
exertion. 

We  crossed  some  water,  whether  a  brook  or  a  ditch 
I  did  not  have  time  to  see,  and  then  we  were  into  the 
timber  that  enveloped  the  breastwork  like  a  green 
shroud.  Only  a  little  more  now  and  we  would  pass 
through  that  scorching  fire,  pour  over  that  wall,  and 
overpower  the  defenders! 

Then  a  shout  of  rage  rose  even  above  the  clamor 
of  the  guns.  The  lines,  Americans,  Highlanders,  and 
English  alike,  recoiled.  We  were  confronted  by  dense 
masses  of  fallen  trees,  with  the  tops  lopped  off  at  the 
ends,  and  every  bough  sharpened  and  pointed  toward 
us.  We  had  charged  upon  rows  of  spikes  rising  above 
each  other,  and  as  dangerous  as  if  they  had  been 
made  of  steel.  Lying  behind  this  deadly  screen  the 
French  and  Indian  sharpshooters  redoubled  their  fire. 
Every  twig  and  leaf  spouted  death. 

But  only  for  the  moment  we  recoiled.  Brave  men 
were  there  that  day,  and  desperate  too.  Then  we 
rushed  upon  the  spiked  timber  and  endeavored  to  cut 
our  way  through  it  and  reach  the  enemy.  The  ground 
was  cluttered  with  the  fallen,  and  the  ghastly  heaps 
grew  fast.  I  heard  the  bones  cracking  like  glass 
beaten  by  a  tempest  of  hail.  But  we  did  not  yield. 
The  smoke  sometimes  drove  so  thickly  in  our  faces 
that  we  could  only  strike  blindly  at  the  spikes  that 
fended  us  off.  Many  of  the  Highlanders,  sd.  earning 
with  rage  and  cursing  most  horribly,  drew  their  broad- 


1*1 
ft 


^i: 


170 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I 


H' 


i 


i,     !!■ 


sworrl'^.  and,  grasping  them  with  both  hands,  chv^pped 
with  all  their  might  at  the  insensate  wood.  I  saw 
one  impaled  upon  a  wooden  spike,  hanging,  *tone 
cjead. 

Some  or  struck  heavily  against  me,  and  through 
the  fih:i  of  smoke  1  saw  that  it  was  Major  McLean, 
still  unhurt,  his  face  as  red  as  the  setting  sun,  and  his 
eyes  sparkling  with  fury. 

"  Major,"  I  shouted  in  his  ear — what  prompted 
me  to  do  it  I  do  not  know — *'  it  appears  that  we  will 
not  go  into  Ticonderoga  to-day !  " 

"  If  we  do  not  go  in  to-day,  we  will  go  in  to-mor- 
row! "  he  shouted.  "  No,  by  God,  we  will  go  in  to-day! 
On,  my  men!  Scotchmen,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  do 
not  let  a  few  miserable  Frenchmen  and  Canadians  hold 
us  back!    Into  the  breastwork!    Into  the  breastwork!  " 

The  blast  of  a  cannon  split  the  colum.n  of  smoke 
asunder,  and  I  stood  aghast,  for  I  saw  that  only  six 
or  eight  men  were  left  with  us.  The  major  rushed 
toward  them,  waving  his  sword  and  renewing  his 
shout : 

'*  Over  the  breastwork,  men!  Over  the  breast- 
work!" 

There  was  a  crash  as  of  a  hundred  rifles  at  once, 
and  the  entire  squad  fell.  Only  the  major  and  1  were 
left.  But  he  staggered  and  drop()ed  his  sword.  I 
seized  him  and  tried  to  drag  him  back,  but  he  said 
haltingly: 

*'  It  is  not  worth  while,  lad,  it  is  not  worth 
while.  I've  a  French  bullet  in  my  chest,  and  my  last 
campaign  is  over.  No,  lad,  I  will  not  go  into  Ticon* 
deroga  to-day,  nor  to-morrow  either!  Oh, to  be  beaten 
thus  by  an  enemy  whom  we  despised,  and  my  bravf 
Highland  laddies  slaughtered,  too!  " 

I  dragged  him  back  some  distance,  and  as  I  Iain 
him  down  I  heard  him  murmur; 


!■ 


ff 


THE   ASSAULT. 


171 


*'  Perhaps  it's  as  well  for  me.  It's  a  soldier's  death 
for  an  old  man,  and  I  have  lived  by  the  sword." 

Wlien  n\n»e  I'tmu-h  soldierB  came  from  the  breast- 
work a  little  later,  they  found  nie  weeping— for  I  was 
only  a  boy  then  over  the  dearj  body  of  Major  xMc- 
Lean. 


If 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


i  '\ 


''I  i 


IV 


A    PRISONER    OF   THE   FRENCH. 

I  REMAINED  for  quite  awhile  in  a  kind  of  Htiipor. 
I  have  only  a  blurred  recollection  of  going  somewhere 
with  the  Frenchmen,  and  of  the  roaring  of  the  canncjn 
and  the  rifles  and  the  shrieks  and  groans  of  the  wound- 
ed still  piercing  my  ears,  though  it  was  but  the  echo, 
for  the  reality  had  ceased.  Then  I  sat  down,  and  while 
I  sat  there  I  dimly  saw  white  men  in  French  uniforms 
rushing  about  and  talking  very  rapidly  to  each  other. 
Then  one  of  them  stopped  before  me  and  began  to  ex- 
amine me  as  if  for  a  wound.  This  brought  me  to  my- 
self, and  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  ashamed  of  my  weak- 
ness. 

"  I  am  not  wounded,"  I  said  in  the  French  tongue. 
"  The  shock  from  the  concussion  of  the  guns  so  near 
to  me  overpowered  me  for  the  moment." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  not  injured,"  sa'd 
the  French  officer  courteously.  "  I  can  well  believe 
that  it  was  the  explosion  of  the  guns.  Our  fire  was 
very  warm  indeed." 

He  added  this  rather  proudly.  I  could  not  deny 
that  he  had  a  clear  title  to  his  elation, 

"  It  was  hot  rather  than  warm,"  I  said,  "  but  our 
men  will  come  into  Ticonderoga  nevertheless." 

"  Only  as  prisoners,"  he  returned,  though  the  in- 
tent of  irony  was  not  discernible  in  his  tones,  "  for 
your  army  is  in  full  retreat,  and  the  fortress,  the  field, 
and  the  fallen  are  left  to  us."  "    % 

172 


|P>;-^ 


A    PRISONER    OF    THE    FRENCH. 


^73 


l\ 


"■:■    "  In  full  retreat!  "  1  echoed.    "  Retreating  where?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps  they  are  try- 
ing to  overtake  your  general  in  chief.  They  say  he 
was  not  near  the  battlefield." 

When  he  spoke  of  our  general  his  tone  indeed  was 
sarcastic,  but  I  forgave  him  freely  for  it.  If  only 
Abercrombie  were  lying  out  there  where  Major  Mc- 
Lean was  it  would  be  a  great  gain  for  the  colonies.  My 
conscience  did  not  smite  me  for  the  thought. 

"  Will  you  come  with  me? "  he  asked,  still  pre- 
serving his  courteous  demeanor. 

I  followed  him. 

I  saw  now  that  I  was  behind  the  abatis  against 
which  our  magnificent  army  had  so  blindly  beaten 
itself  to  pieces.  I  looked  curiously  at  the  defenders. 
Not  very  many  were  they,  though  they  had  been  quite 
enough  for  the  purpose.  They  were  a  gay-looking 
lot,  too.  There  were  the  battalions  of  La  Sarre  and 
Languedoc,  of  Berry  and  Roy  il  Roussillon,  of  La 
Reine,  Beam,  and  Guienne,  all  in  uniforms  of  white, 
faced  with  blue  or  red  or  yellow  or  violet,  their  hats 
black  and  three-cornered.  Mingled  with  them  were 
the  short,  swarthy,  and  muscular  Canadians  in  white 
uniforms  with  black  facings.  Some  Indians  prowled 
about.  They  had  taken  no  part  in  the  battle,  but  had 
come  up  after  it  to  find  plunder.  The  savages  were 
almost  naked,  and  evidently  were  in  the  highest  glee. 
Never  before  had  they  seen  such  a  victory.  Often 
they  looked  fiercely  at  me  as  I  passed,  but  they  of- 
fered me  no  harm. 

Our  way  lay  across  the  breastwork.  A  vast  cloud 
of  smoke  was  hanging  over  the  fortress  and  drifting 
about  the  foiests.  As  we  mounted  the  works  I  heard 
cries  which  made  me  shudder,  despite  my  efforts  to 
control  my  nerves.        -    t 

**  They  are  bringing  in  the  wounded,"   said   the 


ji 


174 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


f! 


I 
')'' 


ii. 


ill 

1 

i 

M 

;| 

1 

' '} 

''  :) 


m 


i  I 


l»l'! 


•!^l 


officer.  **  We  shall  attend  to  them  as  if  they  were  our 
own," 

Near  a  projection  stood  a  group  whose  dress  in- 
dicated that  they  were  officers.  The  one  nearest  the 
edge  was  a  middle-aged  man,  swart  and  small.  His 
coat  was  thrown  off,  and  he  was  gazing  with  great 
earnestness  at  the  battlefield.  I  had  never  seen  him 
before,  but  I  knew  from  the  respectful  manner^^of  the 
others  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  the  great  com- 
mander, the  Marquis  de  Montcalm. 

We  did  not  disturb  him,  but  presently  he  turned 
his  attention  to  us. 

"  This  is  the  prisoner,  M.  le  Marquis,"  said  my 
escort. 

"  They  tell  me,"  said  the  general  kindly,  "  that  they 
found  you  soothing  the  dying  moments  of  one  of 
your  fellow-officers,  and  that  you  refused  to  retreat 
and  leave  him." 

I  flushed  at  his  praise,  for  in  reality  I  had  been 
scarce  conscious  of  what  I  was  doing.  He  looked  at 
me  very  keenly,  and  then  added: 

"  You  are  not  English?  " 

**  No,"  I  said  stiffly,  "  but  I  am  as  good  or  better. 
I  am  American." 

"  Ah!  "  he  said.  "That  is  a  point  on  which  you  two 
will  yet  go  to  war  with  each  other.  If  France  loses 
this  war,  one  of  you  will  avenge  her  on  the  other." 

"  Meantime,"  I  said,  "  we  have  much  occupation 
in  making  France  l'»se." 

"  The  truth !  the  full  truth  from  an  enemy ! "  he 
exclaimed.  "  How  many  men  did  you  bring  to  the 
assault  out  there?" 

He  waved  his  hand  toward  the  battlefield. 

"  Many  more,  I  fear,  than  we  took  away,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"  It  is  so,  it  is  so,"  he  said,  his  face  clouding  some- 


A    PRISONER    OF    THE    FRENCH. 


175 


what.  **  War  is  at  the  best  but  a  succession  of  horrors. 
The  worst  of  those  horrors  is  defeat,  and  the  next  is 
victory.  My  scouts  tell  me  that  you  had  near  twenty 
thousand,"  he  added  in  a  lighter  tone,  "  and  I  had  but 
little  more  than  three  thousand.  What  will  your  Mr. 
Pitt,  who  was  to  acomplish  such  great  things,  say  to 
this  when  he  hears  of  it?" 

His  tone  was  speculative,  not  taunting.  In  fact, 
there  was  no  appearance  of  egotism  about  this  man, 
who  had  just  cause  for  boasting  had  his  mind  so  in- 
clined him. 

"  I  sent  for  you,"  he  said,  "  that  you  might  help 
to  bury  the  body  of  your  friend.  You  alone  are  able 
to  identify  him,  and  perhaps  it  might  be  a  consolation 
for  you  to  assist  in  this  last  service  to  a  brave  man. 
Devizac  here  has  charge  of  a  burying  party,  and  you 
may  accompany  him  if  you  pledge  your  honor  to  make 
no  attempt  to  escape  until  you  return  to  the  fortress." 

I  accepted  his  offer  gladly,  and  thanked  him. 

He  bowed  and  returned  to  his  scrutiny  of  the 
battlefield  and  contiguous  ground.  Then  I  went  out 
with  Devizac  and  a  dozen  French  soldiers  to  help 
bury  the  dead. 

The  sun  was  setting  already,  and  the  darkening 
skies  were  casting  somber  tints  over  the  battlefield, 
from  which  strange  and  awful  cries  arose.  With  the 
utmost  effort  I  repressed  a  fit  of  shuddering  which  lay 
hold  of  me.  The  deadly  odor  which  I  had  noticed 
in  the  charge  again  assailed  me  and  sickened  me,  but 
I  tried  to  affect  an  easy  air  and  bearing  that  my  hardi- 
hood might  not  suffer  in  comparison  with  that  of  the 
Frenchmen  who  accompanied  me. 

The  ground  was  sprinkled  with  red  and  green 
clothed  bodies  as  far  as  I  could  see.  Many  lay  luite  still; 
others  writhed  about,  and  from  them  came  the  agonized 
cries.    A  half  dozen  wounded  men  had  been  placed 


5 

! 

i 

1 

i 

1. 

1 

f 

1 

■                              '■ 

1 

1 

ill 


m^ 


!• 


if 


I 


i(f!' 


li' 


176 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


rv 


against  a  stump,  and  a  French  ranger  was  giving  them 
water  out  of  a  large  tin  cup.  One  of  the  men,  who 
had  been  shot  through  the  shoulder,  was  laughing  as 
if  he  had  been  wondrously  amused.  Yet  his  laugh 
was  very  horrible  to  me,  for  there  was  nothing  to  laugh 
at.  But  he  did  not  know  what  he  was  doing,  for  his 
wound  had  crazed  him. 

Another,  whose  right  arm  had  been  shattered, 
cursed  continually  and  most  hideously.  I  do  not  think 
his  mouth  was  closed  for  a  single  second  against  that 
stream  of  imprecations  which  issued  from  his  throat. 
But  his  face  was  entirely  void  of  expression.  Others 
were  quite  silent,  and  were  as  white  as  if  all  the  blood 
had  been  drained  from  their  bodies. 

A  few  Indians  skulked  about  the  field.  They  were 
decorated  with  the  bright  coats  of  our  fallen  soldiers, 
and  carried  other  articles  of  spoil.  They  seemed  to 
take  no  part  in  the  burial  of  the  dead  or  relief  of  the 
wounded. 

"  They  want  scalps,"  said  Devizac,  who  had  the 
virtue  of  frankness.  "  These  red  fellows  are  well 
enough  in  battle — better  could  not  be  found,  though 
they  did  not  help  us  to-day — but  after  the  iiring  ceases 
I  could  wish  them  a  hundred  miles  away." 

I  led  the  way  toward  the  spot  where  Major  Mc- 
Lean had  given  up  his  last  breath.  But  before  we 
reached  it  I  heard  a  rifle  shot  from  the  edge  of  the 
wood. 

"  Our  army  has  not  fled,  after  all  I "  I  exclaimed 
joyfully  to  Devizac.  "  Don't  you  hear  the  skirmish- 
ers?" .'  '        .       '-•----  '  -  ■-  ^ 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  replied.  "  That  was  not  any  of  your 
skirmishers;  it  was  merely  one  of  our  men  shooting 
a  wolf.     They  are  beginning  to  gather."  ^ 

This  increased  my  anxiety  to  give  speedy  burial 
to  the  body  of  my  friend,  and  presently  we  found  it. 


1 

: 

rf 

A    PRISONER    OF    THE    FRENCH. 


"^17 


r '  The  major  was  lying  on  a  little  slope  with  his  dead 
face  turned  up  to  the  sky.  Its  expression  was  en- 
tirely peaceful.  After  all,  I  do  not  know  that  I  had 
any  right  to  lament  his  fate.  He  had  been  the  servant 
of  war,  and  the  master  had  not  claiined  the  forfeit  from 
the  servant  until  he  had  attained  fullness  of  years. 
There  were  many  lying  there  who  had  heard  the  sounds 
cf  battle  for  the  first  and  last  times  alike  that  day. 

We  buried  him  where  he  had  died,  and  then  I 
continued  with  the  party,  helping  to  bur\  others  and 
to  attend  to  the  wounded.  As  the  night  fell  the  air 
turned  chill.  The  day  had  been  hot  as  a  July  day  has 
the  right  to  be,  but  with  the  coming  of  the  night  the 
cold  wind  from  the  mountains  drove  the  heat  away. 
Some  rain  fell,  and  I  shivered.  But  the  dampness  and 
the  coolness  were  good  for  the  wounded. 

When  it  was  quite  dark  the  wolves  in  the  adjacent 
forests  began  to  hov,l,  and  their  long  quavering  yelps 
rose  above  the  shrieks  of  the  wounded.  Many  of  the 
latter  were  still  on  the  ground,  and  when  they  heard 
the  howling  of  the  wolves  they  knew  well  what  it 
meant.  They  begged  in  most  piteous  tones  to  be  re- 
moved. I  must  say  for  the  French  that  their  human- 
ity after  the  battle  v/as  erjual  to  their  gallantry  while 
it  was  in  progress.  All  through  the  night  they  worked 
among  the  wounded,  and  parlies  were  sent  in  the  wood 
to  drive  away  the  wolves.  Devizac  told  me  the  animals 
were  so  fierce  for  the  feast  that  they  were  shot  at  the 
very  muzzles  of  the  rifles. 

Devizac  and  I  had  become  so  friendly  while  en- 
gaged in  this  work  of  humanity  that  I  ventured  to  ask 
him  what  would  be  my  fate. 

"  You  will  be  sent  to  Canada,  most  likely  to  Que- 
bec," he  said,  "  and  I  presume  they  will  keep  you  there 
until  the  war  is  over." 

"  It  is  not  the  way  that  I  would  choose  to  go  to 


\  !  f 


■■iF#^- 


n 


t7i 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


iJ 


Quebec,"  I  said,  "  but  it  seems  to  be  the  only  way  in 
which  we  are  able  to  get  there." 

"  War  is  as  fickle  as  the  King's  favor,"  he  replied. 
"  Fortune  has  been  with  us  thus  far,  but  it  may  go 
over  suddenly  to  you.  Your  men  are  brave.  Their 
lavishness  of  courage  was  as  conspicuous  to-day  as 
their  lack  of  knowledge." 

"  We  have  no  leaders,"  I  said.  "  You  give  us 
Montcalm  and  take  Abercrombie,  and  we  will  soon 
take  Canada." 

"Why  not  ask  for  Canada  at  once?"  he  said. 
"  While  we  keep  Montcalm,  we  keep  Canada." 

I  had  neither  the  inclination  nor  the  abilitv  to  dis- 
pute what  he  said. 

The  night  was  now  far  gone.  The  cries  from  the 
battlefield  were  sinking,  and  all  but  two  or  three  of 
the  relieving  parties  had  returned  to  the  fortress.  Devi- 
zac,  with  two  of  the  French  soldiers  and  myself,  had 
gone  to  one  of  the  distant  points  of  the  field.  Devizac 
said  he  heard  a  groan,  which  appeared  to  issue  from 
some  bushes  there,  and  when  I  listened  carefully  I 
thought  I  could  detect  the  sound.  I  supposed  at  once 
that  it  came  from  a  wounded  man.  We  hurried  for- 
ward, and  I  thought  I  saw  a  form  skulking  among 
some  bushes,  the  tops  of  which  had  been  clipped  off 
by  cannon  balls. 

"  Whoever  this  man  is  his  wound  must  be  of  a 
very  peculiar  nature  to  endow  him  with  such  activity," 
I  said.  "  He  seems  to  be  dancing  a  minuet  among 
those  bushes." 

"  I  am  not  convinced  that  the  man  who  groans 
and  the  man  who  dances  are  the  same,"  said  Devizac. 

At  this  moment  the  dark  figure  leaped  higher  than 
usual,  and  something  bright  flashed  in  its  hand.  Then 
it  sank  down  and  disappeared  in  the  bushes  like  a  stone 
dropped  in  the  water. 


^li 


A    PRISONER    OF    THE    FRENCH. 


179 


Devizac  ran  forward,  dragged  the  figure  up  again 
from  the  bushes,  and  threw  it  backward  with  all  his 
might.  Then  I  saw  it  was  an  Indian  warrior,  naked 
except  his  breech  clout  and  a  coat  of  flaming  paint. 
He  held  his  knife  in  his  hand,  and  Devizac  liad  inter- 
rupted his  ghastly  work  just  in  time. 

A  New  England  ranger,  too  badly  wounded  to 
move,  was  lying  among  the  bushes,  and  had  we  been 
a  half  minute  later  the  Indian  would  have  scalped  him. 
Even  then  the  warrior,  like  the  wolves  which  he  re- 
sembled in  ferocity,  was  not  disposed  to  relinquish  his 
prey.  He  glowered  at  us,  and  held  his  knife  as  if  he 
were  half  tempted  to  strike.  Devizac  spoke  to  him 
in  the  Indian  tongue.  I  did  not  know  what  he  said, 
but  the  voiv  »  of  the  honest  Frenchman  rang  with  in- 
dignation. The  Indian  replied  in  a  tone  of  equal 
anger. 

"  He  says,"  said  Devizac  to  me,  "  that  blows  have 
been  plentiful  and  scalps  few.  He  says  he  has  fought 
on  many  fields  for  the  French;  now  he  demands  the 
scalp  of  your  unfortunate  countryman  as  a  trophy  to 
hang  in  his  lodge," 

"You  do  not  mean  to  let  him  have  it?"  I  ex- 
claimed.   "Why,  the  man  is  not  even  dead!" 

"  Living  or  dead,  he  shall  not  have  it,"  said  Devi- 
zac.   "  He  shall  commit  no  such  act  of  barbarism." 

The  Indian  advanced  as  if  to  carry  out  his  project. 
Though  I  had  no  weapon,  I  started  forward  to  pre- 
vent it.  But  Devizac  was  ready.  He  drew  a  loaded 
pistol  from  his  pocket  and  threatened  the  warrior  with 
instant  death  if  he  attempted  to  touch  the  wounded 
man.  This  proved  effective,  as  loaded  pistols  when 
properly  handled  usually  do,  and  the  savage  with- 
drew into  the  darkness,  still  holding  his  knife  in  his 
hand.  ^' 

"  They  are  dangerous  allies,"  said  Devizac  as  we 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


If  K^    ^ 

-  lis  III  10 


IIM 

112.2 


1.25 


1= 

U    11.6 


/ 


'^ 


^  ^"4^. 


L^  '^^^. 


"% 


^^ 


^l. 


.x%^* 


^^fv^ 


o 


/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


.<p 


V#>^ 


i8o 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


ii*,     ,1 


IF;  I 


w 

Ik; 
U; 


i 


I    '3 


r      t 


ifi''! 


If 


iiilil 


!  i 


!Hlti 


lifted  the  wounded  man.    "  Well,  one  who  calls  fire  to 
his  aid  must  expect  to  be  scorched  sometimes."    '    • 

When  we  carried  the  wounded  man  to  the  breast- 
work my  labors  of  the  night  were  ended.  Then  I 
lay  down  and  sought  rest.  But  the  battle  was  fought 
over  again  in  my  distempered  brain,  and  the  light 
of  dawn  was  beginning  to  appear  before  I  fell 
asleep. 

When  I  awoke  Devizac  was  near  me. 

"  Go  up  on  the  breastv'ork  there,"  he  said,  point- 
ing.   "  Some  one  wants  to  see  you." 

I  obeyed  without  question,  and,  walking  the  way 
he  indicated,  saw  a  tall,  straight  figure  which  I  re- 
membered well.  ■  ■  •  ■ 

"M.  de  St.  Maur!"  I  said. 

He  turned  and  looked  at  me  in  a  kindly  manner. 
He  was  in  his  brilliant  uniform  of  colonel,  the  same 
that  I  had  seen  him  wear  in  New  York,  but  it  was  now 
spattered  and  torn. 

"  Lieutenant  Charteris,"  he  said,  offering  his  hand, 
"  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  here." 

"  Better  to  be  here  than  lying  out  there,"  I  said 
with  a  sickly  laugh,  pointing  to  the  field  before  the 
abctis.  ■      '  - 

'  We  meet  again  sooner  than  T  had  expected,"  he 
said,  ''  but  we  will  make  you  as  comfortable  with  us 
as  we  can.  The  Marquis  de  Montcalm  likes  you,  and 
Frenchmen,  thank  God!  still  know  how  to  treat  brave 
men  well." 

There  was  a  little  reproach  in  his  voice  for  the 
treatment  he  had  received  within  our  lines. 

I  had  the  honor  of  taking  breakfast  with  the  mar- 
quis, the  seigneur,  de  Levis,  Bougainville,  and  other 
distinguislied  officers.  After  the  breakfast  I  asked  the 
seigneur  about  his  daughter,  Mile.  Louise. 

"  She  is  at  Quebec,"  he  said,  "  keeping  my  house 


;.       ".    :    A  .FRISONER    OF    THE    FRENCH. . ,;  .-^  *"|.Bi  •.     •.•.'* 


'*.' 


there  ready  for  me  when  I  return.     It  will  please  her 
to  hear  that  you  were  uninjured  in  the  battle."    "     •' 

•  • .  The  seigneur  departed  the  next  day  for  service  on 
the  western  frontier  of  New  York,  and  I  saw  no  more 
of  him  for  the  present.  •.-.  .-  '..  •;...  ••:  •...••;  ..•  ...  •. ,  ••./  ..■'.. 

:  \  The  French  seemed  uncertain  what  to  do  with  me. 
I  remained  a  prisoner  at  Ticonderoga  for  some  time, 
and  they  treated  me  well,  though  once  a  French  sol- 
dier came  very  close  to  me  and  sang  these  words: 

'•/   ■  .'        •    .  .   Je  chante  des  Fran9ais,       ,  ,•"'         .*    -.^    ..•   .•  ,.  ; 
*     "•        /*         La  valeur  et  la  gloire,      •.     .'  ■'■       •"       •.   '. ' 
..'     •     .      •"     ■   '/.  .  Que  toujours  SUV  r Anglais      -*■.'*'       .s     '  "   ,    ; 
•     •     .     •  "■    '  Remportent  la  victoire.   '"'.     .  ;•  i>'  '"/'■''' .    ' 

•  '      •   \  Ce  sont  des  hcros,  **• ''   .'  -X    '"• 

'.•''■'•''        '     ' 
Tous  nos  g^.ieraux,  "      '    .•  '"  .'' 

.-.       ..       '.       Et  Montcalm  et  Levis,  ..'''•  •   .\-'    " 

...      '  .       .  .      Et  Bourlamaque  aussi.  „  .  '..  .'•  •     ' 

Which,  translated  liberally,  means:  The  English 
are  but  a  mouthful  for  die  French. 

The  French  like  to  enjoy  a  victory. 

Later  I  was  transferred  from  fort  to  fort  and  camp 
to  camp  until  the  winter  was  far  advanc»^d.  Once  or 
twice  I  thought  I  would  be  exchanged  along  with 
others,  but  the  matter  always  fell  through.  My  treat- 
ment continued  good.  I  had  naught  to  complain  of 
on  that  score,  but  I  longed  to  be  with  my  own  people 
agairx  in  the  active  pursuit  of  my  military  career. 
Devizac,  of  whom  I  saw  much,  always  stood  my 
friend,  and  when  winter  had  reached  its  climax  he 
came  to  me  and  announced  in  his  gay  fashion  that  we 
would  soon  take  a  temporary  rest  from  trials  and 
travels. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  that  you  are  to  be  sent  as  a  prisoner  to 
Quebec  as  the  most  convenient  place  in  which  to  keep 


.1 

i' 

ill 


,  -=  >  '.. 


*  .  > 


lis 


^j^sm 


:iH'i 


■■'rhj-Xy 


182 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


.V.'  . '  .V 


.-AW 


f; 


.' t.» 


u--' 


V\i- 


you,  and  that  I,  since  I  am  going  there  on  other 
duties,  am  detailed  to  take  you  v/ith  me/'  - --  = 

I  was  glad  and  yet  sorry  to  hear  it.  I  was  tired  of  V^^  f  4- 
being  dragged  about  from  place  to  place,  but  in  such  I\-[$>}^>-  Ki 
a  formidable  fortress  I  would  have  small  chance. of  ;^;;I^t;;>i 
escaping  to  our  own  army.  :^'f^-<fevi  ■?-' 

"  You  arc  to  be  kept  in  very  strict  confinement''v!^j;J|N/;.5: 
in  Quebec,"  said  Devizac  in  a  chafifing  tone^  "  arid  you  V'r :::''; 
can't  guess  the  name  of  your  future  jaiier."  ;^^Cv;^'^;c§-^^^ 
^.^.t;;'**  I  give  it  up,"  I  said.  .^^■•:^V:^-;.-v.r^-VN/;'vv;''5Ji^ 
^'^^i^;^^  Why,  it  is  none  other  than  the  Seigneur  Raymond  5^^M\^r 
de  St.  Maur,"  he  replied.  "  It  has  been  arranged  be-v^|?0: 5;i 
tween  him  and  Montcalm,  as  both  like  you,  and  the 
seigneur  requested  it.  I  bid  you  beware  of  the  Mile. 
Louise.  France  has  other  conquests  to  boast  of  than 
those  r  f  war." 
;}  He  spoke  in  a  tone  half  jest,  half  earnest.    I  had 

'^  confided  to  him  some  time  before  that  I  knew  the 
seigneur's  daughter,  and  told  of  her  visit  to  New 
York.-::-'^.'-.^r^-:-v  /-'p)" -v-vi.-x  .v■J-.^.^ .:.:., \';^ 

*;•  We  prepared  the  next  day  for  the  journey  to  Que- 
bec, traveling  in  a  sledge  over  the  frozen  snow.,:  :.: ;.^  ^ 


V?:  • 


.,  •/.  •''^•- .  ■ 


/  : 


i^:^- 


such      :0i^, 

e-..Of.':/:;.u-rf 

.,    •-•  -.—it!  ;V'" 


■^.■?:"----:  V■':v• 


K'^  'rV-i'-^.-.^'i  ■  *■■      ■■"'4' .■..'■•■' \     . ' '■ 


■  .r--iV' 


'  >'. '.  Ai'".*-  • . 

■J  *.' :  ■^■•■■-^  '  '  ' 


■A/^     •.  w? 


v'  •'•[  -I-  ■•.*  * 

r'.-'-t':'-': 


■.I'l/.'-V 


",'■■■■.»'-■',■■'        .'■'■.'■■!!''•-   ■ 

'.•'•■■'■.•■  .I-..  •..■•,.-.•>'■••  ;*•■;■, 

■..>••■•     "—      .•.■••j.i...  ■.  .•■*">. 


.r:^;•...;ic,':^-•.■■^■.;: 


•'.■t 


lond 
be- 
the 

^lle. 

than 

had 
the 

New 

3ue- 


,-^'hli:V  !',"->iV':'. 


It  was  late  in  the  day  when  we  approached  Que- 


••.   !■    '  '.    .  ■ 


"■'■  .•"'■.  v.  > .  -.  '.'•■v  ; 

■''''■•.•   '.       '   .    ",'    \ 


^0Mf0^^^^'  ^"^  ^'^  ^^^"'  °"^  driver,  said  we  would  arrive      ojl^J'    :$ 
|:"-"""  "'before  nightfall.  ,       .  :     /,;.  v^^.-...:^..   ■..:^'^:r'-  -B^^^r- .•.i}ti• 

i^:;<:^v;;:  v.^^.,. ;-"  Y        words  are  most  welcome^  Jean,  for  by  all      '^i^^|^ 
*<;i;y5!>>?^^;tM  saints  my  blood  has  congealed!"  replied  Devizac.   v^^?^^'"' ' ' 
5;  "^l-f • ,: ;  "How  different  is  the  New  France  from  the  old!    Jean,    ^  ^ 

4v  v^     I  ^^"^^  ^hat  you  are  a  true  prophet,  for  it  is  most  won-  :: 

'c^:/p^'^„.    derfully  cold  to-day."  "•^^■^' •'■■>.;.  ^^v;:     ^.::.,.;^./r-.-..,/;i::rv„y^.0:jO^^^ 

^-\;-'^;^r --V  v"  Cold  is  no  new  thing  in  Canada,  monsieur.*'"  '^-?-^^       "   -v 

p-'v  v>' -  •;'^^  Nevertheless  custom  does  not  blunt  its  edge,  at  ^ 

(-f:lrl     ^^^s^  ^^^  "1^'  Jea"»  who  loves  the  glorious  heat  of 
;,  1'^  :;:     Provence,  the  land  of  my  birth."     ^  ir^ : '  ^vA'/v^^c^;;. 

:^V -V  "^^  ^■- '--^*'  Frenchmen  fear  neither  heat  nor  cold,  monsieur." 
■■•^:y:  V  "  Wisely  and  truly  spoken,  Jean,  but  a  man  need 

^;^  V?V       not  love  a  thing  because  he  does  not  fear  it,  and  I 
■'•:::■'•'':/     have  had  a  sufficiency  tor  the  time  of  the  snow  and 
...•);     the  wind  that  has  the  saber  edge. — Does  not  the  pris- 
oner agree  with  me?" 

"  I  have  had  enough,  truly,"  I  replied,  "  and  I 
could  well  wish  to  pass  speedily  through  one  of  the 
gates  of  Quebec,  though  my  imprisonment  will  be- 
come a  more  assured  fact  the  moment  I  am  inside 
the  walls." 

"  If  you  pine  for  freedom  and  the  companionship 
of  your  countrymen,  you  have  my  permission  to  leave 
the  sledge  at  this  moment  and  start  for  your  own  prov- 

183 


>-n 


V, 


.;v<y 


f.       '!    ' 

C?{:'>^?-'S^•:^Vi^i^^■•^^:^■^■•    -y^^A/ SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAI^^:. 

'^fe  %??&  ■  "^ce.    No  one  of  niy  men  shall  fire  a  slibt  at  you  or 

-\Vi;'';'J-';>5-^^*  pursue  you.     That  I  promise." 


••fi- 


"  ■■>■,■,■.':  * 


3.'.'-'.. 


■■.■■.•••/<',•.'■■.■'•.,■,•: 


y-i        I  looked  at  hill  and  valley  covered  With  the  frozen 
;.i^,  snow,  and  listened  to  the  fierce  wind  that  whistled 


^i&W:^'}4';£:^^^S::M*^:'iit  speaks  the  words  of  wisdom,  does  he  notM'--W^ 


■^■i■^^ 


■-;'r-Vv'<'5'.-  ••  v->.'  ■■■■■■■ 


-■">•■ 


"•j".!/v;r'<' 


■■'.A 


mi 


Jean?  "  he  said  to  the  old  Canadian.    .^^■^;:^i'i:^:y:'^.^K-^-^rks,::i^^x:''?' 

"  Monsieur,   our  prisoner  is  not  without  knowl- 
edge, even  though  he  be  one  of  the  English,"  replied 
Jean.    "  He  would  freeze  to  death  long  before  the  com- 
ing of  the  dark,  and  th^  wplves  would  find  a  grave     :iiif 
,_.for  him."  ..•••-.:-.■,•■.■■.•.. i     k:- ._■■;■,■■■•.:■■■■-.■■,.:■/■- .  ,;^/:-^ 

^^?;/  "  How  sharp  grows  the  wind!  "  exclaimed  Devizacii^^' v; ^;  v. 
But  it  is  no  sharper  than  my  desire  to  get  into  Que^i^^;^'.>v 
bee,  and,  by  St.  Anthony,  my  appetite  is  sharper  thati^.^||4;?;.-!^,:/  S: 
either!     A  warm  place  before  a  blazing  fire  between^^v^Jl^v 
thick  log  walls,  with  a  bottle  of  the  red  wine  of  France 
>   v^-I'B  r^-li:  and  a  haunch  of  the  venison  of  Canada  at  my  elbowj^:? 
)^ii¥:^'!l^v$  ^"d  I  would  be  as  snug  and  happy  as  if  I  were  in  my 
^■x^'^^^'-^'.^'-'-  own  Provence!     And,  by  the  Holy  Virgin,  you  shall 
share  these  delights  with  me.   Lieutenant   Charteris, 
prisoner  though  you  be  and  enemy,  too,  of  our  most 
gracious  Majesty  King  Louis,  who,  I  surmise,  never 
heard  of  either  of  us,  and  would  not  give  us  a  thought 
if  he  did  hear  of  us."         •    " '^'<••',•'V'V^v-  -  ..•''•.^''^^ -^v^ 
■;••.  -  s^*  i\.  warm  skin  and  a  full  stomach  maketh  a  happy 
heart,"  quoth  Jean  oracularly.    '.;:•.:,.;.>•::  . 'v:^  ■  ;;Xv> •-    >  . 
•     ••"  You  are  an  old  man  and  should  know,  my  brave 
Jean.    Put  us  to  the  proof  as  soon  as  may  be."       ,.:.> 
We  vv^ere  eight  in  the  great  sledge,  Devizac,  jean, 
five  soldiers,  and  myself  the  prisoner. 

We  were  wrapped  in  furs,  but  the  cruel  wind  bit 


.v;.-.:f. 


m 


'■'■!■■: 


W''- 


m^ 


■•^: 


L  •  ■A.-^- 


. .      <•• 


H 


if 


I  or     -'^Mr^ 


■  f  '■' .     •  ."'v'.-i'..-'--     j 

)zen:-'    ■■■v>?>v 

'•    .■.■'■.r.-.''<::'-/,-;v.V'-v 
v.-  f  ■.    ■,-v;i- •<•■,. 


Dwli'  "    -^ 

rave     4^-  ^  ,'^; 

i.;  •.■'i>i---iT/'.'.'-:"J:; 

thart    %;?;•;■:;,« 
veen  ,.,J^^vk 

hall     '.^fe -f 

nost    ';-^S:^:t^: 
ever    V 

igi%.;^/.^.  -. 

rave     C,.  „ 


can, 


1  bit 


>^  ■.('■*■ 


'!■■■■ 


^•■'■"■■:':v?>):J  AN    ARRIVAL    IN    QUEBEC.,y 


■i.:? 


,•''^•^••■ 


.;..;/^(. 


,^^v 


>/■, 


..'■.    •,~i-' 


deep  nevertheless.  Our  sledge  flew  along,  the  frozen 
snow  slipping  away  like  smooth  ice  under  its  runners. 
■J>^<;^.^  Now  and  then  we  caught  a  gleam  of  the  mighty  St. 
'(ii^^M  Lawrence,  which  seemed  to  be  still  and  dead  in  its 
L  "  bed  under  the  touch  of  Father  Winter.  The  bare 
trees  bent  to  the  wind  and  gave  back  only  a  dry  rustle. 
:^  Still  the  blood  rolled,  warm,  in  a  high  tide  in  my 
veins.  My  muscles  seemed  to  grow  stronger  and  my 
faculties  keener  in  the  crisp  air  of  ihe  North.  I  looked 
forward  with  as  much  eagerness  as  the  others  and 
more  curiosity  to  the  arrival  at  Quebec,  the  citadel  of 


>*  ■  .y,,* 


M 


,,.■■•  l;  !.-.'-!>.»:';--vV..-'. 


■■.•?._;f-L*- 


^MBKv^??^^V:-■■ 


the  French  power  in  America. iC&^^i-  t:^x-^^'i^H:h-:-v^^^i^i^' 


;-.;V.*t-j--. 


«?v?*;nv?m.^     vWe  were  on  the  north  side  of  the  river,  and  were 
IJi '"  "  fast  nearing  Quebec,  so  Jean,  our  guide,  driver,  and 

^fe:^v<^  mentor  told  us.  But  as  yet  we  saw  nothing  to  indi-  . 
cate  that  it  was  an  inhabited  country.  All  things  were  5 
lone  and  cheerless.  If  we  trusted  to  our  ph3'sical  senses  [^^^ 
only,  we  could  well  believe  that  we  vvere  the  first  to  *] 
Renter  this  land,    ■;^^^>>>.l'■^''^4^v?;-^;•'r-^ 

:.M^  I  see  the  smoke  of  Franqois  Labeau's  cottagei^i''  / 
said  Jean  at  length;^:r;'*^(Wer^^ill  soon  be  inside  the  y' 
walls  of  Quebec,  monsieur."    i^?^  ^'^.-^ ■;^^^^  .■%(^\' 

ii-  vWe  saw  a  wisp  of  smoke  curling  up,  and  then  a  low  :;, 
stone  cottage  snuggling  into  the  side  of  a  little  hill.  -J-- 
From  a  window  that  seemed  to  be  no  more  than  a  ■: 
foot  square  a  bright  light  beamed  and  fell,  ruddy  and  '■:' 
cheerful,  across  the  snow.  We  hailed  it  with  joy,  and  v', 
even  stolid  Jean  smiled.     •'V^ '  '^   ■.■./.  ,-■.  ,f. 

...;:.>«  Yes,  that  is  the  cottage  of  r  rangois  Labeau,  old    - 
Francois  Labeau,"  he  said.     '  He  is  near  to  seventy    ;, 
now,  but  he  still  traps  the  silver  fox  far  up  near  the    ■ 
frozen  ocean,  and  when  war  comes  is  as  ready  with     : 
his  rifle  as  a  youth.     He  was  at  Ticonderoga,  but  he 
came  back  to  Quebec  in  the  autumn  to  help  gather  the 
crops,  for  food  is  as  necessary  as  powder  and  ball  to 
the  soldier."..   .    .    .   ...  .  .......  .    i.   „    ..    .. 


":'Ji-Y ■:•■■■.■'        •-  ij. 


.  ■>.■»■•; 


'^^m. 


.....v':'?-->-V! 

■■•■^-::-'l-:  -V'.-P,'-,':;..-! 


••■/ 


''  ■,■•■.••  - 


;',4 


■I  ' 


1 


111 


m/ 


'^   SOLDIER   QJP    MANHATTAN,, 


>-Cy:v 


.V7 


H  -. 


V  Vj.^ 


J^-f^  , 


1..' 


-*4. 


■.■:i^>ii./ 


We  passed  more  cottages,  and  presently  we  were  ;?.;;;? 
hailed  by  a  sentinel,  Jean  made  the  requisite  ex-  ;;v-^ 
planations;  in  a  few  minutes  one  of  the  gates  of  Que-  ;>>: 
bee  opened  for  us,  and  I  was  in  the  famous  citadel  of  :'(^ 
the  French  power  on  our  continent.  There  were  many  ;  ' 
soldiers  and  hunters  and  Indians  about,  but  our  af-?^^;^'^^ 
rival  did  not  seem  to  stir  up  a  great  interest  among  ''-^fi. 

them.  •; ,  ^;^' ■;  .■■  v^;>.:;  .^v^J,';  :;:-;;^  }^^^^ 

^:    Oiif  sledge  WmHe(^d^owii  6  naftdw  streets' ;g 

and  then  stopped  in  front  of  a  low  but  very  heavy  |^:^ 
and  massive  building.  It  was  of  dark  bricks,  and  was 
but  one  story  in  height  between  the  eaves  and  the 
ground,  but  the  roof  was  very  steep  and  high.  Three 
or  four  chimneys  rose  through  this  roof,  and  a  dozen 
dormer  windows  were  cut  in  it.  In  the  wall  of  the 
main  story  were  many  windows  also,  but  all  were 
heavily  cross-barred  with  iron.  In  the  center  was  a 
pretentious  doorway  approached  by  several  steps. 
Jhe  eaves  of  the  building  overhung  like  the  thatch  of 

^;  pent    house.  ..^,^.,  -S^-^  ■.:■;..;;-:-..  >,--;;:,';   ;i;-/:-  VMi.,;  -,-s:;;.>:-iv,/-.::;,i- 

'  0:..''  That,"  said  Devi^ac,  "  is  tfie  Chateau  de  St. 'M 
aidd'  I  think  you  will  find  it  a  not  unpleasant  prison." 
'  Pie  and  I  left  the  sledge  and  approached  the  door. 
It  swung  back  as  if  the  inmates  of  the  building  were 
in  momentary  expectation  of  our  arrival.  A  middle- 
aged  man  in  a  costume  half  of  the  soldier  and  half  of 
the  huntsman  who  had  opened  it  stepped  forward.  5;  ix; 
:;::;"  This  is  the  prisoner  whom  the  seigneur  is  to 
hold,  Pierre,"  said  IDevizac.  c-.  -^  ^^ 'Vv:;:!;/-^ )pr 
.,.  Pierre  made  no  reply,  but  led  the  way  down  a  long', 
narrow,  and  brick-floored  hall.  As  I  had  expected 
from  my  knowledge  of  the  seigneur,  the  house  was 
such  as  people  of  a  bold  or  martial  character  would  in- 
habit. Indeed,  the  appearance  of  the  watchman,  for 
such  I  took  him  to  be,  was  sufficient  for  that,  as  he 
carried  a  very  formidable-looking  pistol  in  his  belt. 


.ft: 


■■■,;>sr 


'•^yi 


:.yX.. 


■S  H 


("■.-•■ 


■r.i  ::■ 


-vvy, 


'ere- -rf;  ;?;;';■■, 
'ue-  W^^k':, 

waslHiJII; 
thel^|i'^|/i;/f;w:; 
iree '  '■""■"■■ '" 


'  .'•■  s  ■■•.- .;.-■;  ■.   •.■■-■.■■••■'■.■■'•-„.■•••..■,•••  .■ 


AN    ARRIVAL   IN    QUEBEC. 


187 


".?;■'■ 


.1. 


>'.  ".■•.■•\.' •-.■■•>•.., .  •-. 
SSPv^'  own  foresters  and  those  of  Canada,  bayonets,  rapie^si;5;;ij'^;;•':f,^i|;f  ;> 


•^^■;^:!;::jj^i;f    The  appearance  of  the  hall  was  further  confirma-ri ;  •  . 

it'i^i^/V  tion.  It  was  adorned  with  the  heads  of  moose  and  V' 
h '  i^v<^i%  caribou  and  with  many  weapons  of  chase  and  war. 
.  ^- ;  A-%  There  were  muskets  of  tlie  ancient  tvpe,  wide-mouthed 
'^'J'^^i'y^'/::^:-  weapons,  which  perhaps  were  used  against  the  sol- 
■  r  iMX  ^iers  of  the  p^reat  Marlborougii,  the  longer  barreled 
¥ ;^^';:i^:->  rifles  which  had  become  the  favorite  arm  both  of  our 


v.;  •/'  • '  ./ 


.-■■V 


•..I. 


aur,     ;^ 

on.'V.^;:i? 
OOtV:^a; 
vere  f 
die-  S 
f  of 


ted 
was 
in- 
for 
;  h^ 
t.  -■ 


■  1.  ■■■.■.■■/.■ 


;■  ,i:>.t^ 


A. 


■  •'^X-y'" 


'WP:. 


^^■;-.v.s- 


He  turned  away  and  I  went  in  alone. 

The  chamber  which  I  entered  was  large,  though 
the  ceiling  was  very  low.  Its  decorations  were  of  'li^-::^^^^:^^^^:- 
part  with  those  in  the  hall.  On  the  floor  were  m^xv^^:::^::?:i'^^y^f:[[l 
soft  furs  of  northern  animals.  At  the  far  end  of  th0fV;>? ; !iS 
room,  in  a  wide  fireplace  like  those  we  had  at  home  ''"'^■T^^^'-KK 
in  the  colonies,  great  billets  of  wood  burned  and  ^^i  sii-^;.^- 
crackled,  casting  up  merry  flames  and  sparks,  whic^  f;5i>y^Y ;[^^ 
alike  cheered  the  soul  and  warmed  the  body.  ^v  i^' "> ; ■ ; A-";: 

But  I  noticed  these  things  only  for  a  moment.    The-^V^Jl^  vi- r 
master  of  the  Chateau  de  St.  Maur  stood  at  the  QC^^^--r{(>fy':i^:^:--( 
of  the  fireplace  and  held  out  his  hand  in  greeting:"^- >■■ 
;^;:•^''I  welcome  you.  Lieutenant  Charteris,"  he  said; 


fy  p 


7'^  you  are  my  prisoner  now." 


■'"'i^r-if. 


;;,  "  Until  I  escape,"  I  said,  half  in  jest. 
"■-"Attempt  to  escape,"  he  replied  seriously,  "  and 
Pierre  out  in  the  hall  there,  who  is  wondrous"  quick  of 
eye  and  a  most  excellent  marksman  to  boot,  will  soon. 


i88 


•?.♦.-' 


■'•!.'^" 


'■c^-x:'^)>'-:i-^'-;: ^:v•■•i  -7 "v'^  '^:--Z-'.'' 

A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


,y,J.\^v^ 


."'.'.■ 


Ill 

if 
1 

pi 

1 

^■■^:'.■■^•.>->Vv^  ,' 

^:;;'^?i?4'fev-;;    Quebec 
il  '    WHj^^4iM>-.   grateful 


I 


lid 


,w  ' 


i  'l 


s  -K 


f-f 


persuade  you  tliat  you  are  in  ^ood  trutli  a  prisoner. 
As  your  jailer,  I  am  on  my  honor  to  keep  you  from 

escaping."   ;;,;.;: ^■v-;-'..-;^.-';--  :-^-;':^y:-  -,':r:y\r.y  >:.,-.:; 
^,    *'  I  shall  refrain  from  the  attempt^ — at  least  for  the 
present,"  I  replied. 

"  A  most  excellent  deteimination,"  he  said  heartily; 
*'  and  that  having  been  reached,  take  a  seat  by  the 
fire  here,  which  I  verily  believe  will  be  welcome  to 
you,  for  there  is  never  a  whisper  of  th^  South  in  the 
winter."  '^^'-^^i^'^^'d^^:-^^^^^^^ 
rew  near  the  fire,  quite  willing  to  bask  in  the 
heat.  He  indicated  a  chair  made  of  the  twisted 
horns  of  the  deer,  and  I  sat  in  it,  spreading  my  hands 
out  before  the  blaze.  He  took  a  seat  also,  and  we 
talked  for  a  few  minutes.  I  asked  him  presently  if 
Mile.  Louise,  his  daughter,  was  well,  and  he  replied 
that  she  was,  but  happened  to  be  absent  from  the  house 
visiting  one  of  her  friends  in  the  city.  He  apologized 
for  her  absence,  saying  that  our  arrival  had  not  been 
expected  until  the  next  morning.  Then  he  left  the 
|ivf^0 :  room,  saying  he  would  see  if  our  supper  was  ready. 
l;S0f  ^"^^^^  ?  You  have  suffered  from  hunger  doubtless  as  well 
fjv^S^  as  from  cold.  I  must  fortify  you  against  the  one  as 
'^^^::0,.  well  as  against  the  other,"  he  remarked  as  he  left.  -  • 

!sl^;^  In  about  five  minutes  Devizac  came  in.  ^;  v  -'.'-- 
§:.^;'J|fj;-''sVvJi- Well,  "ly  ^^^^  lieutenant,"  he  asked,  "do  you 
;;5^^^    think  the  seigneur  will  make  as  good  a  jailer  as  sol- 

•'  H';|:^^?;\     "  It  is  too  early  to  speak  with   fullness  on  that 
;iiV  point,"  I  said,  "  but  from  the  first  I  judged  the  sei- 
-:;'^J^'^;   gneur  to  be  no  common  man." -'^"^  -'^'^    '^ 

■j.):~'y^?y^(K^^  Further  acquaintance  with  him  will  make  that 
j--;'  opinion  the  firmer,"  said  Devizac.  "  You  have  most 
truly  said  that  the  Seigneur  of  Chateau  de  St.  Maur 
■S:<::  in  the  city  of  Quebec  and  of  the  noble  estate  of  St. 
■i;C         Maur  up  the  river  is  not  a  man  of  the  common.    Like 


."  ..•>!iy. 


I  I 


■  r  .-J- 


■rft'; 


liiV.-n,''^—C^'^?^T 


you 
sol- 

that 
sei- 


''■.-•:;■'•'■.'  '-■• 


>  1 


^    \    y 


•'   .- 


'<:■  • 


7;   AN   ARRIVAL   IN    QUEBEC. 


189 


:■'..■  ■■(•.:■••■'•'  '..'    Ji- 
ll    •'..'';/.'^''!''^*.'  >'■■    . 


.'■'',  .?■■•.■•:•.••,••• 


myself,  he  was  kissed  by  the  suns  of  southern  France 
in  infancy,  l)ut  a  FreiKiinian  loves  advenlure,  and  the 
seigneur  had — nay,  still  has,  for  the  matter  of  that — 
the  spirit  which  led  the  old  Spanish  conquistadorcs 
into  new  worlds.  A  soldier  while  yet  a  boy,  he  foujjht 
at  Malplaquet  and  Oudenarde  against  your  own  Marl- 
borough. After  the  great  wars  he  came  to  Canada, 
and  for  more  vcars  than  vou  have  lived  he  has  hunted 
and  fought  in  this  mighty  northern  wilderness.  They 
say  there  is  no  Huron  or  Iro(|uois  in  all  the  woods 
who  can  track  the  moose  better  than  he,  nor  any  sol- 
dier with  Montcalm  who  is  braver,  though  most  meri' 
of  his  age  get  no  further  than  the  tale  of  the  exploits 
of  their  youth.  His  gracious  Majesty  King  Louis 
has  granted  him  a  broad  estate  in  Canada,  no  more 
than  a  fitting  reward  for  one  of  the  greatest  French- 
men in  this  country.  I  repeat  that  the  seigneur  is  not 
a  man  of  the  common.**,>^.., ,;.;p,^,;^;'^i--.;.^y;;,:v-^,,?;>^ 

My  reply  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Pierr^ 
with  a  burden  that  made  Dcvizac's  eyes  sparkle  and.  3' 
me  to  realize  that  it  is  pleasant  to  be  a-hungered  when  :> 
food  is  in  sight.  Pierre  brought  with  him  the  haunch  ;' 
of  venison,  rich  and  steaming,  and  the  red  wine  of  ;;■; 
France,  not  one  bottle  or  two  bottles  merely,  but  four  i" 
of  them,  waiting  to  be  emptied  by  two  men  who  were/ ;:/;':: 
able  to  appreciate  their  quality.  :'^■•l^:-^L'■^;^;?^vj^^^^;iv^^ 

"  Pierre,"  said  Devizac,  "  thou  art  an  angel,  thougE-i-f;'^ 
in  person  thou  resemblest  one  but  little.     It  was  |t;i>  ^v 
noble  buck  truly  to  which  that  haunch  belonged,  \^it0rpS-i^'(y^f:^^ 
it  not?'V.,,.,.,,,^-..,,..;.<^^^^^^^^^ 

'*  He  wak'a  king  61  ffii^iofe^,'*  replied  ^^ 
stolid  features  brightening,  "'  and  he  was  running  at 
full  speed  when  the  seigneur  slew  him  with  one  of  thCV 
longest  shots  I  have  ever  seen.     It  was  a  noble  feat^A 
and  the  seigneur  was  much  pleased,  though  he  is  not:  ;• 
wont  to  boast/* ^:;v./.:;:;^^y;  ^^^^/■■■''^7:<--'':^:^^^^^^ 


t  jj 


/': 


■■:^: 


¥. 


■'¥• 


':-'.i 


■y:^-'<y< 


■^•-  ■  ■~:-- 


190 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


■;  ./"  By  St.  Anthony,  it  was  noble!"  said  Devizac. 
"It  was  royal,  and  the  seigneur  has  the  gratitude  of 
Lieutenant  Charteris,  our  prisoner,  and  myself." 

With  that  we  ceased  to  talk  and  fell  to,  and  on  my 

,.      conscience  I  can  say  that  I  have  rarely  spent  a  more 

'/:'    pleasant  half  hour  in  my  life,  prisoner  though  I  was. 

The  venison  was  truly  fine,  and  though  it  is  not  much 

the  custom  in  the  colonies  to  drink  such  liquor,  for 

'x      we  seldom  see  it  there,  I  found  the  red  wine  of  France 

'}■[     very  grateful  and  refreshing  to  the  palate.    Old  Pierre 

-;.      stood  for  some  time  regarding  us,  though  there  was 

no  expression  on  his  somber  face.     Then  he  went 

]:■       out.    .o^■^^.^■••^:•->:•:;-••^:v•r•■••/^'•^.-  "  ^ 

i/t/^V:'  ;"  Perhaps  he  could  no  longer  bear  to  look  lipoa 
\f'  the  destruction  of  the  meat  and  the  wine,"  said  Devizac. 
I  replied  not,  for  I  was  in  too  pleasant  a  frame  of 
V^  -mind  to  care  for  the  feelings  of  old  Pierre. 
.*•'>:■  A  sound  which  at  first  resembled  a  whistle  and 
'■?^  'then  grew  into  a  shriek  pierced  the  heavy  v/alls  of  the 
Chateau  de  St.  Maur  and  came  to  ours  ears.  ■^'•■'•■"'^•''  ■ 
.;•  .-'-i^  *  "  It  is  the  wind,"  said  Devizac.  "  It  has  risen  into 
.^'■"f  ia  storm,  and  its  edge  is  as  sharp  as  a  rapier  and  as 
V;^ retold  as  death.  How  good  it  is  and  what  warmth  it  is 
i';;-  ^^'to  the  soul,  M.  le  Prisonnier,  to  be  within  these  solid 
•^■^/^$'^^:^^-^/^i?Vvalls  drinking  the  red  wine  of  France! ",.,.-.  ;r>....; 
■;;:K;^■A-■/";VX:■.t^f.  "Listen,  'tis  a  louder  blast  than  usuali"  I  ex- 
A:.!.'"i:';  !'<,r;?;v''  -itlaimed,  as  the  fierce  wind  beat  upon  the  house.  "Then 
-■ /;  :'-:)^.)^  a  deeper  draught  vvith  me,  M«  Devizac,  my 

-..i/^--.  ;^;..;^...V.    captor! 

•  ;.';•;'•  v4'«:'^^^^^^^^^  ^^^  of  the  bottles  that  had  not  yet  been 

V  ;,'•*':•  'v.."  ■;n"i.'i 'touched  I  filled  the  glasses  until  the  generous  red 
hf'./.:/:vv/.:;  liquor  rose  exactly  even  with  >he  edge.  Not  another 
■'>':.['■■': -X-^r.     drop  would  either  glass  contain.    Then:.- .  'rv   .. .:  ..•.••■ 

^■■'■'"'''■■y.^'^--'^  ..;:■.  "  To  your  health,  M.  le  Capitaine,  my  captor!  *' 
^■'^):-/''yi^':'-,\^:-''-''''"  "^^  your  health,  M.  le  Lieutenant,  nton  prison- 
■'■:.-''■'■  '-[.'-r-  '  nier !:",.:■  ,■■:■■::   •.•,..■.  ....... --^  .-v.  ..  ■■.    .:■.  ■.   .■  v.     ..    .. 


'■V  f  ■■;; 


•'.Ui- 


'••■.■'■ 


.  AN    ARRIVAL   IN    QUEBEC. 


191 


.   .      In  a  twinkling'  up  flashed  the  glasses,  and  in  a 
twinkhn*^  tliey  v  sre  replaced  empty  on  the  table. 

Remember  we  were  both  very  young  then,  and  the 
cold  outside  vvas  as  bitter  as  death. 

"  Who  cares  for  war  and  winter  when  the  red  wine 
•     of  France  flows  full  and  free?"  exclaimed  Devizac. 

"  Yes,  who  cares?  "  said  a  solenm  voice  behind. 

• ;  "  Who  should  care  more  than  thou  who  art  an  officer 

:    of  France  and  thou  who  art  an  officer  of  England? 

;  Who  should  care  more  than  the  young  and  the  tool- 

.     ish,  who  are  prone  to  think  too  much  of  this  world 

•.  and  too  little  of  that  world  hereafter  which  hath  no 

•  end?     Blessed  Virgin,  save  them,  for  they  are  young 

and  given  up  to  the  folly  and  wickedness  of  the  flesh! 

In  this  solemn  hour  I  may  quote  the  words  of  our 

.     Saviour,  '  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not 

,;.  what  they  do.'  " 


■  ■ '.  I 


< 


been  .■; 

is  red  .' 
[lother 


I .  • 


''  ■  ». ■ 


'■Ui 

hi'  I 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A    FIGHT    FOR   A    KINGDOM. 

Devizac  had  just  lifted  the  bottle  to  fill  up  the 
glasses  again.  He  stopped  with  his  elbow  bent,  and 
the  wine  continued  to  flow  in  a  tlnn  red  thread  into 
his  glass. 

A  priest,  tall,  French,  elderly,  and  seemingly  se- 
vere of  countenance,  had  entered  the  room.  He  stood 
for  a  few  moments  regarding  us  with  what  was  at  first 
a  gaze  of  disapproval,  tempered  at  last  by  a  slight 
twinkle  of  the  eye.    Then  he  said: 

"  It  is  scai  "e  fi^^  for  an  officer  of  France  and  his 
prisoner  to  be  roystering  together  in  this  unseemly 
and  unholy  fashion." 

Devizac  replaced  the  bottle  upon  the  table.  Then 
he  said  in  a  tone  of  deprecation : 

"What  would  you  have,  Father  Michel?  It  is 
true  that  Lieutenant  Charteris  is  my  prisoner.  Now 
what  are  the  duties  of  an  officer  to  his  prisoner? 
Should  I  kill  him?  If  such  are  your  views,  good 
father,  I  will  even  perform  the  task  at  once,  lest  I  suf- 
fer in  your  opinion  for  dereliction  of  duty. — Charteris, 
prepare  for  death ! '*  ' 

He  rose  from  the  table  anu  began  to  draw  his 
sword.     I  guessed  that  Devizac  knew  his  man. 

"  No,"  said  Father  Michel,  advancing,  "  you  ask 
me  what  I  would  have,  and  I  say  I  will  not  have  that. 
But  what  I  will  have  is  a  glass  of  that  red  wine,  which 

192 


" '  "C". '  lstfiit?r''i  -t  ."*»j*;*<j-Mjf^-}*:y 


A    FIGHT    FOR    A    KINGDOM. 


193 


his 


must  have  a  noble  favor,  for  I  see  it  has  been  sadly 
reduced  in  quantity." 

"  Your  choice  lay  between  the  wine  and  the  sword, 
father,"  returned  Devizac,  bovvinji^,  *  and  you  have 
chosen  wisely.  Father  Michel,  this,  as  you  know,  is 
our  prisoner,  who,  I  may  add,  is  Lieutenant  Charteris, 
one  of  the  English  colonials,  and  a  heretic  who  is  be- 
yond all  hope  of  your  saving." 

"  Then,  since  he  is  beyond  the  hope  of  salvation, 
we  will  even  let  him  go  to  the  devil  in  a  comfortable 
way,  and  take  our  own  ease  meanwhile,"  said  Father 
Michel. 

Then  he  sat  down  at  the  table,  and  Devizac  poured 
a  glass  of  wine  for  him.  I  looked  at  him  with  inter- 
est, and  I  said  in  my  mind  that  he  was  a  man  of  the 
world,  of  a  cheerful  hearts  and  ready  to  render  unto 
Caesar  the  things  that  are  Caesar's.  He  drank  his  wine 
slowly,  and  evidently  with  a  relish,  though  he  did 
not  smack  his  lips  or  depart  otherwise  from  the 
gravity  that  is  becoming  a  churchman  and  a  man  of 
years.  .         - 

Devizac  filled  the  priest's  glass  again.  Father 
Michel  sipped  it  a  little  and  then  replaced  it  upon  the 
table,  but  retained  his  hold  upon  the  glass  as  if  he  in- 
tended to  keep  it  ready  for  any  quick  call  upon  it 
that  might  be  made  by  his  palate.  Then  he  turned  his 
gaze,  still  with  tJie  faint  twinkle  in  his  eye,  upon  me 
and  said: 

"  Thou  art  a  descendant  of  the  English,  which  is 
bad,  and  a  heretic,  which  is  worse.  What  hast  thou 
to  say  in  thine  ou'n  defense?*' 

My  head  was  tingling  with  the  wine  that  I  had 
drank,  and  there  was  a  roaring  in  rny  ears,  whicli 
caused  me  to  resent  his  words,  though  I  ought  to 
have  known  better. 

"  It  is  you,  not  I,  who  are  the  heretic,  if  you  will 


I  :^: 


itS^ 


?>'i  .1 


m 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


pardon  nie  for  speaking  in  terms  of  plainness,  good 
father,"  I  replied. 

"  Add  not  the  sin  of  blasphemy  to  all  thy  other 
sins,"  said  the  priest,  his  look  becoming  severe.  '*  The 
proof  that  thou  art  wrong  lies  in  the  fact  that  the 
Lord  hath  delivered  thee  into  our  hands." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "if  that  be  proof,  St.  Paul  was  a 
very  great  sinner,  for  the  Lord  delivered  him  into  the 
hands  of  his  enemies,  and  they  did  their  will  upon 
him." 

"  Darest  thou  compare  thyself  to  St.  Paul?"  asked 
the  priest,  who  I  think  was  becoming  somewhat  of- 
fended at  my  manner. 

"  Nay,  nay.  Father  Michel,"  said  Devizac  depre- 
catingly,  "  remember  that  even  if  our  prisoner  be  of 
the  Protestant  faith,  he  is  not  devout  enough  in  it  to 
hart. — Is  it  not  so,  lieutenant?  Is  3^our  religion  any 
great  burden  upon  your  mind?  " 

I  was  about  to  protest  against  Devizac's  defense 
of  me,  as  well  as  Father  Michel's  attack  upon  me, 
when  I  was  interrupted  by  the  return  of  the  seigneur, 
who  joined  us  at  the  table.  Devizac  poured  a  glass 
of  wine  tor  him.  He  drank  it  slowly,  and  I  noticed 
how  wonderfully  similar  his  manner  of  drinking  was 
to  Father  Michel's.  One  was  the  soldier  and  hunts- 
man and  the  other  the  priest,  but  the  one,  I  knew  not 
which,  had  caught  much  of  his  manner  from  the  other. 

"What  was  the  matter  in  here,  Father  Michel?" 
at  length  asked  the  seigneur.  "  I  thought  I  heard 
voices  raised  to  an  unusual  pitch  of  loudness  when  I 
came  in  at  the  door."  '"    ''' 

"  I  was  seeking  to  arouse  this  youthful  heretic  to 
a  true  perception  of  his  wickedness  and  lost  condition," 
replied  Father  Michel,  "  for  into  whatever  depths  one 
may  sink  there  is  yet  a  chance  to  rescue  him  so  long 
as  life  lasts." 


■  -■.»,*-S!5i'r:"il«S^SHS2 


to 


A    FIGHT    FOR    A    KINGDOM. 


195 


"A  most  worthy  purpose!  A  most  worthy  pur- 
pose, father,  and  it  proceeds  from  the  goodness  of  your 
heart,"  said  the  seigneur,  smiling  at  me,  and  then  shak- 
ing his  head  as  if  in  sadness,  "  but  I  fear  that  the  task 
is  hopeless.  The  men  from  the  English  colonies  are 
strangely  set  in  the  ways  of  perversion  and  wickedness, 
and  are  given  up  to  greed  and  to  the  new  democracy, 
which  is  a  compound  of  all  crimes  and  follies,  with  no 
spice  of  any  v^irtue." 

"  Your  words  are  harsh,  but  none  too  harsh,  I 
fear,"  replied  the  priest  gloomily. 

"  They  mock  at  our  holy  religion,"  said  the  sei- 
gneur, and  whether  he  was  now  speaking  in  jest  or 
earnest  I  could  not  tell,  "  and  at  the  divine  right  of 
the  Lord's  anointed,  our  most  gracious  King  Louis, 
Holy  Virgin  protect  him!  Nay,  they  mock  even  at 
their  own  King,  and  nothing  that  is  old  and  honoured 
is  sacred  from  their  profaning  touch. — Don't  be  of- 
fended, lieutenant;  I  am  merely  speaking  of  the  Eng- 
lish collectively,  and  not  of  you  individually." 

"It  is  so!  it  is  so!"  said  the  priest,  the  twinkle 
returning  to  his  eye.  "  Can  not  we  convert  them  with 
powder  and  the  sword?  The  Marquis  de  Montcalm 
well  knows  the  use  of  both." 

"And  nobly  he  uses  them,"  replied  the  seigneur; 
"  but  these  sons  of  the  English  swarm  in  their  colonies 
as  plentiful  as  the  wild  geese  that  sometimes  darken 
the  air  in  their  flight.  When  we  slay  one,  ten  take 
his  place." 

"  They  come  like  the  locusts  in  Egypt,"  said  the 
father. 

Then  taking  the  bottle  in  his  own  hand,  the  sei- 
gneur filled  his  glass  and  that  of  Father  Michel.  They 
rai'Sed  them  high  until  the  firelight  flickered  on  their 
ruddy  sides,  and  then  drank  their  contents  in  silence. 
The  wine  having  warmed  them  as  well  as  us,  we  began 


I'M 

■■■"\ 

■  f 

r'i 

u  *''  ii 
■*■ '  ji 

i-  - '  ■ 
1.  ■ 

y:\ 

r  -  / 

'  ■J'  " 

'."If-K 


iq6 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


1!  I 


a  lively  discussion  of  the  war.  Devizac  was  confident 
that  the  French  would  win.  I  think  they  began  it  to 
tease  me,  but  soon  we  became  very  serious. 

"  Both  our  King  and  our  Church  seem  to  keep  a 
firm  grasp  upon  their  own,"  said  Devizac. 

"  For  the  time,"  said  the  seigneur,  "  for  the  time, 
but  will  it  last?  I  would  have  all  this  mighty  continent 
Catholic  and  French,  but  wherever  the  sons  of  France 
go  the  sons  of  England  go  too.  The  Frenchman  is 
a  soldier  and  the  Englishman  a  trader.  The  soldier 
is  a  fine  fellow,  and  worth  his  price  against  another 
soldier,  but  he  is  not  fit  to  carry  on  war  against  the 
trader.  Though  he  may  always  have  sword  and  musket 
in  hand,  yet  the  trader  will  beat  him  in  the  end." 

"  In  particular  when  the  trader  knows  how  to  use 
the  musket  and  the  sword  also,  and  fears  not  to  take 
them  up,"  I  said,  annoyed  at  the  evident  slur  upon 
our  people.  The  seigneur  had  known  me  so  long  now 
that  he  could  talk  to  me  as  to  an  acquaintance  and 
not  as  to  a  prisoner. 

"  They  have  not  yet  shown  the  proof  of  their  knowl- 
edge," said  the  priest. 

"  But  neither  is  there  an  end  to  the  war,"  I  replied. 
"  They  will  yet  come  to  Quebec.  You  will  yet  feel  the 
edge  of  their  sword." 

I  was  flushed  with  wine,  or  I  would  not  have 
spoken  in  such  a  high  fashion. 

"  Are  you  a  good  swordsman?  "  asked  the  seigneur. 

"I  have  some  acquaintance  with  the  weapon,"  I 
said,  remembering  with  secret  pride  my  duel  with 
Spencer.  ,    .  ;     ^        'u^v-^ 

The  seigneur  knocked  loudly  upon  the  table  with 

his   fist.  ^_^^.,^,-^.,^.^^^^-u,.^^....:.^..i--,i:^;...^,^^  ■ 

Pierre  entered. 

"  Bring  me  the  two  swords  that  hang  in  my  bed- 
room," said  the  seigneur. 


A    FIGHT    FOR    A    KINGDOM. 


197 


%* 


Pierre  returned  in  a  few  moments  with  the  weap- 
ons, fine,  well-made  swords  they  were,  too,  for  the 
French,  I  believe,  have  always  been  very  skilled  in  the 
production  of  such  things.  The  seigneur  took  them 
and  handled  them  lovingly,  bending  the  blades  over 
his  strong  wrists,  and  running  his  forefinger  lightly 
along  the  edges.    Then  he  put  them  upon  the  table. 

"  They  are  just  alike,"  he  said  to  me,  "  and  you 
can  take  your  choice.  You  say  you  are  a  swordsman. 
I  am  one,  too,  though  in  these  later  days  I  am  more 
given  to  the  use  of  the  rifle  than  the  blade,  and  we 
shall  see  who  will  win,  English  or  French,  Canadian 
or  American.  It  is  a  quiet  and  peaceable  test,  such 
as  two  friends  like  you  and  I  can  make.  See,  I  put 
these  buttons  upon  the  ends  of  the  rapiers,  and  we  can 
do  each  other  no  harm." 

I  was  willing,  thinking  it  an  honor  to  face  him, 
and  we  prepared  for  the  bout. 

"  Devizac,"  said  the  seigneur,  **  look  after  Lieu- 
tenant Charteris;  Father  Michel,  you  will  bear  me  up 
in  this  affair."  .    ., 

Then  we  took  the  swords  and  faced  each  other. 

"  Take  the  south  end  of  the  room,"  said  the  sei- 
gneur, "  for  your  colonies  lie  to  the  south,  while  I 
take  the  north,  which  is  Canada." 

Devizac  and  the  priest  cleared  away  the  chairs  and 
the  table,  and  assumed  their  respective  stations.  Devi- 
zac, who  seemed  to  have  a  fine  appreciation  of  the 
situation,  took  a  piece  of  charred  wood  from  the  fire 
and  drew  a  black  line  down  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  This  is  the  boundary  line  of  Canada  and  the 
English  colonies,"  he  said.  "  Now  we  shall  see  how 
each  defends  his  own."_..^^    •     :.. 

The  thing  appealed  to  me  in  a  much  more  forcible 
manner  than  it  would  have  done  had  my  head  been 
cooler. 


'■AT:i:wi",L3'-', 


■'J--.:-,  ^-^'fiii' 


198 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


"  Very  well,"  I  said,  "  and  let  victory  rest  with  the 
better  man/' 

"So  be  it,"  said  the  seigneur,  holding  his  weapon 
with  a  practiced  hand. 

I  perceived  that  I  had  a  formidable  antagonist. 
But  I  was  determined  to  win,  for  I  felt  the  hot  blood 
in  my  head.    •     •    '         •  ■     .'       . 

We  stood  fa:ing  the  black  line,  and  the  seigneur 
made  a  quick  thrust  at  me.  He  was  almost  within 
my  guard,  and  the  button  of  his  rapier  would  have 
countered  upon  my  chest,  but  I  managed  barely  in 
time  to  catch  his  edge  upon  my  own.  Then  I  made 
a  return  thrust,  but  he  guarded  well,  and  my  blade  was 
turned  aside. 

"Well  done  for  both!"  said  Father  Michel,  who  was 
watching  the  play  of  our  weapons  with  the  utmost  in- 
terest. "We  shall  have  a  fierce  war,  it  seems.  An 
old  head  against  young  muscles."         .     •    .    .  ' 

Our  positions  were  unchanged.     ^.        '.:    ..'  ,. 

Then  occurred  some  rapid  sword  play,  the  blades 
flashing  back  and  forth  and  gleaming  like  lightning 
in  the  ruddy  firelight.  But  nothing  came  of  it.  Nei- 
ther could  thrust  the  other  back  an  inch.  Then  we 
paused  to  take  breath  and  strength. 

"  A  half  glass  of  wine  for  each,"  said  Father  Michel, 
matching  word  with  action  and  pouring  the  wine  for 
us.  We  drank  it  without  taking  our  eyes  off  each 
other,  and  then  resumed  the  contest. 

The  seigneur  showed  an  abundance  of  agility  for 
one  of  his  years,  and  two  or  three  times  I  thought  I 
was  about  to  force  him  back  to  save  himself,  but  a  leap 
aside  or  a  twisting  of  the  body  would  avert  my  tri- 
umph. Presently  I  saw  a  most  excellent  opening,  and 
thrust  straight  at  his  breast.  But  with  a  sudden  and 
dexterous  turn  of  the  wrist  he  swept  my  blade  aside, 
and  drove  the  button  of  his  sword  against  my  chest 


i  ■ 


t 


"""^  V'?^  *  '  ^'^^^L^^*^^  ^^     ^ 


A    FIGHT    FOR    A    KINGDOM. 


199 


■'■_  .".■../•■A 


we 


» } 


with  such  force  that  I  almost  fell,  and  when  I 
recovered  my  balance  my  antagonist  was  across  the 
line. 

"  The  French  are  over  the  border,"  said  Father 
Michel  joyfully.  "  The  French  invasion  of  the  Eng- 
lish provinces  has  begun,  and  may  the  invasion  speed- 
ily become  a  conquest." 

He  took  another  drink  of  the  » ed  wine  and  watched 
us  with  eager  eyes.  •    '  •;  " '   '•       ■•-''    '•  -' 

I  set  my  teeth  hard  and  resolved  to  drive  the  enemy 
out  of  my  territory.  But  I  saw  that  it  behooved  me 
to  be  very  wary.  There  was  a  satisfied  twinkle  in  the 
seigneur's  eye,  and  that  incited  me  to  further  effort. 
But  he  began  again  with  such  a  furious  assault  upon 
me  that,  despite  my  best  efforts  at  defense,  I  was 
driven  back  several  feet  farther.  The  priest's  ruddy 
countenance  shone  with  satisfaction. 

"  It  is  a  most  prosperous  invasion,"  he  cried,  "  and 
fortune  as  well  as  skill  attends  the  righteous  arms  of 
France!  Our  vanguard  is  almost  within  sight  of 
their  town  of  Albany!  We  shall  take  that,  and  then 
New  York,  too,  shall  fall  before  our  arms."       •  -v. 

Even  Devizac,  my  second,  looked  pleased.  But 
I  had  no  right  to  find  fault  with  him  for  it,  as  he  was 
a  Frenchman  and  an  official  enemy. 

The  pleased  twinkle  in  the  seigneur's  eyes  deep- 
ened, and  he  attacked  again  with  great  vigor,  but  I 
was  too  cautious  for  him,  and  it  should  not  be  for- 
gotten also  that  I  possessed  a  fair  modicum  of  skill. 
Presently,  in  his  anxiety  to  penetrate  farther  into  the 
enemy's  country,  he  lunged  rashly,  and  I  came  back 
at  him  with  much  force  and  such  directness  of  aim 
that  I  struck  him  on  the  chest  and  drove  him  halfway 
back  to  the  boundary  line.        -  .;  ^    .  , 

Father  Michel  frowned. 

"Caution,  France,  caution!"  he  said. 


t:l 


!'l 


niiii 

11.   .jV: 


200 


A   SOLDIER    OF   MANHATTAN. 


ii 


The  twinkle  disappeared  from  the  seigneur's  eye. 
I  think  it  must  have  reappeared  in  mine,  for  I  felt  a 
flush  of  satisfaction  and  returnlnj^  confidence. 

The  severe  exertion  had  partially  cleared  the  effects 
of  the  wine  from  my  head,  which,  however,  had  put 
more  strength  for  the  time  in  my  muscles.  My  wrist 
felt  like  steel.  '•       ' 

•  I  began  now  to  push  him,  handling  my  weapon 
warily,  but  giving  him  no  rest  nevertheless.  I  noticed 
that  his  breath  was  becoming  somewhat  shorter,  and 
I  redoubled  my  efforts  against  him,  for  now  I  saw 
that  my  youthful  strength  would  overmatch  him,  sea- 
soned and  well  preserved  though  he  was.  I  pressed 
him  back  with  certainty,  though  it  was  by  inches.  But 
the  distance  between  us  and  the  boundary  line  across 
which  he  had  driven  me  at  first  narrowed  steadily,  and 
Father  Michel's  face  clouded  more  and  more. 

"Courage,  France,  courage!"  he  said.  "Never 
relinquish  your  hold  on  the  enemy's  territory!  Thrust 
him  back!  Thrust  him  back!  "  .'.•  '  ••*  '  ••-  ■  '•' 
.i  The  seigneur  was  willing  enough  to  thrust  me 
back,  but  the  ability  was  lacking  then,  for  I  pushed 
him  so  fiercely  that  he  was  hard  put  to  it  to  defend 
himself.  Our  rapiers  rang  across  each  other  until 
the  room  was  filled  with  the  whirring  noise  of  steel 
against  steel.  But  he  could  not  withstand  my  ad- 
vance. Presently  he  stood  upon  the  boundary  line, 
and  if  my  success  continued  I  would  soon  have  him 
back  in  Canada,  and  then  I  would  be  the  invader.  My 
strength  was  now  superior  to  his.  * 

"  Retreat  no  farther!  retreat  no  farther!  "  exclaimed 
the  priest  in  his  excitement.  "  France  never  yields! 
Strike  hard  for  King  and  Holy  Church!  "  .    •  ;^^    , 

The  seigneur's  face  was  overcast,  and  chagrin 
lurked  in  his  eye,  but  nevertheless  I  did  not  spare  him. 
I  drove  him  across  the  line  and  entered  his  territory. 


A    FIGHT    FOR    A    KINGDOM. 


201 


I  was  well  into  Canada,  and  was  pushinp^  him  farther 
and  farther  back.  He  put  all  his  strength  into  a  last 
effort,  and  the  sparks  of  fire  leaped  from  our  weapons 
as  steel  warded  off  steel.  Then  I  caught  his  sword 
with  mine  and  twisted  it  from  his  weakening?:  hand. 

As  tiie  sword  rattled  upon  the  floor  1  heard  a  loud 
shriek.  There  was  the  quick  flutter  of  a  woman's 
dress,  and  the  next  moment  Mile.  Louise,  whom  I  had 
supposed  to  be  elsewhere,  rushed  into  the  room  and 
gazed  at  me  with  indignar    eyes.    •.•         •.'•    "  . 

"  What  are  you  doing.  Lieutenant  Charteris?"  she 
cried.    "  Lighting!    You  and  my  father!  " 

I  had  not  looked  forward  to  any  such  meetitig  as 
this;  quite  the  contrary.  I  was  confused,  and  my  eyes 
fell  before  her  gaze,  while  I  protested  that  we  were 
but  trying  the  foils  in  sport.  The  seigneur  backed  me 
up  in  fair  and  honest  style.  So  did  Devizac  and  the 
good  father,  and  there  we  all  stood  explaining  and 
apologizing  to  one  girl.  She  gave  a  glance  or  two  at 
the  empty  bottles  and  glasses,  and  then  seemed  to 
understand  our  explanations  quite  well.  She  held 
out  her  hand  to  me  and  welcomed  me  as  a  guest,  and 
not  as  a  prisoner,  to  the  Chateau  de  St.  Maur.  I  was 
egotist  enough  to  believe  that  my  welcome  was  sin- 
cere, for  she  gave  me  a  warm  smile.  We  talked  for 
awhile  very  gayly  of  New  York  and  the  people  we 
knew  there.  Her  presence  seemed  to  bring  a  new 
atmosphere  into  the  room — an  atmosphere  that  was 
of  the  sunshine  and  summer  roses.  Presently  she  went 
away,  taking  the  seigneur  with  her.      '  •'  '    •'* 

When  they  had  gone.  Father  Michel  turned  a 
gloomy  gaze  upon  me.    .•'       •••        •       .'.       .,    ,        • 

"  You  have  won  in  the  fencing  bout,"  he  said, 
"but,  pish!  there  is  nothing  in  such  things.  I  have 
always  despised  omens  and  signs  as  handicraft  of  the 
devil,  designed  to  cheat  the  minds  of  honest  men." 


g 


I .  I 


Irl  ' 

p.*       " 


202 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


Then  he,  too,  went  out,  and  Devizac  laughed  as 
the  door  closed  behind  him. 

"  The  good  father  will  soon  recover,"  he  said,  and 
I  knew  that  Devizac  was  right.   '  •  •  -  ^• 

Then  he  asked  Pierre  to  escort  me  to  my  room, 
or  my  cell,  as  he  took  pleasure  in  calling  it,  saying 
with  a  sly  look  or  two  that  it  was  a  pity  I  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  such  harsh  jailers.   •    ...  ,    *    •  •      .• , 


ll  I       'i: 


■  « 


d  as 
and 


/       ;, 


3om, 
ying 
alien 


CHAPTER   XIX.     . 


A    RIVAL   APPEARS. 


&  My  room  was  a  square  little  chamber  on  the  sec- 
ond floor,  lighted  by  the  beams  of  the  sun  or  moon 
sifting  through  the  dormer  window  that  opened  like 
a  cleft  in  the  roof,  too  high  above  my  head  for  me  to 
reach  it.  It  was  evident  that  the  seigneur,  however 
well  disposed  he  might  be  toward  rre,  did  not  intend 
that  I  should  escape.  My  head  had  begun  to  ring 
again  with  the  wine,  and  my  muscles  were  sore  from 
my  exertions  in  the  encounter. 

••' .  Pierre  placed  a  tallow  candle  on  a  box  in  the 
room.        ■     ".    •_    •  ■  •      ,.  :  . 

,;     "  You  will  stay  here  to-night,  monsieur,"  he  said. 

"And  other  nights,  too,  I  suppose,  Pierre?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  replied.  „  . 

**  Suppose  I  escape?  "  I  said. 

"  The  attempt  would  be  very  difficult  and  very 
dangerous  for  monsieur,"  he  said.  "  The  house  is 
guarded,  and,  even  if  you  should  escape  from  it,  you 
would  then  have  to  get  out  of  the  city.  The  chances 
are  that  you  would  be  shot.  Monsieur  would  show 
wisdom  if  he  did  not  try  it."    ■ 

I  decided  that  Pierre's  advice  was  good,  c.nd  that 
for  the. present  I  would  not  attempt  to  escape.  On  the 
whole,  I  did  not  have  much  to  cavil  at,  and  I  did 
not  wish  to  give  the  seigneur  cause  to  think  me  un- 
grateful. 

Z4  203 


tV     !    •• 


II 


I 


ii 


! 


I 


4    - 

I 


204 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


Tlaving^  reached  this  sage  conclusion,  I  lay  down 
on  a  very  pood  bed  and  slept  heavily  through  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night. 

"  Wake  up,  sluggard!  Wake  up!  By  St.  Anthony, 
you  must  have  a  sound  conscience!  Must  I  pull  you 
in  pieces  to  awake  you?" 

It  was  morning,  and  Drvizac  was  tugging  at  me. 
I  arose  and  dressed.  .    . 

"  I  merely  came  to  tell  you  good-by,"  he  said.  "  I 
depart  for  the  front  in  order  to  assist  in  waging  war 
against  your  interesting  countrymen,  and  I  leave  you 
to  the  care  and  the  mercies  of  the  Seigneur  of  Chateau 
de  St.  Maur  and  his  handsome  daughter,  who,  I  trust, 
may  not  prove  unmerciful.  I  will  add  also  that  your 
behaviour  of  last  night  commends  you  still  further 
to  the  seigneur." 

"How  so?"  I  asked.  '^     -    - 

"  The  seigneur  admires  a  good  swordsman  and  a 
man  of  courage,"  he  replied.  "  He  is  sure  to  be  your 
friend  in  everything.  But  Mile,  de  St.  Maur!  Ah! 
beware  of  her!  She  regards  you  as  a  heretic  and  the 
incarnation  of  wickedness.  And,  my  dear  Charteris, 
beware  of  a  French  girl  when  she  hatos  you.  I,  who 
am  a  Frenchman  and  not  altogether  without  experi- 
ence, should  know." 

Then  my  good  friend  gave  me  another  sly  smile, 
said  farewell,  and  left. 

My  next  visitor  was  the  seigneur  himself,  who 
asked  me  very  kindly  about  myself,  and  paid  me  some 
fine  compliments  on  my  skill  with  the  sword. 

"  Pierre,  who  is  most  faithful  to  our  cause,  and 
whom,  I  warn  you,  you  can  not  corrupt,"  he  said, 
"  will  bring  you  some  breakfast  here  It  will  be  of  a 
rather  rude  character,  for  we  must  not  forget  that  you 
are  a  prisoner.  But  we  will  make  atonement  at  din- 
ner, when  Captain  Savaignan,  between  whom  and  my 


A    RIVAL    APPEARS. 


20$ 


nie. 


who 

some 

and 

said, 

t  of  a 

t  you 

t  din- 

d  my 


daugliter  a  marriage  is  arranged,  is  to  dine  with  us. 
We  will  have  you  at  that." 

The  seigneur  withdrew,  and  Pierre  brought  me  my 
breakfast,  which  v/as  much  more  plentiful  than  he 
had  promised.  TJut  I  was  not  happy.  The  seigneur's 
annouricement,  spoken  with  real  or  assumed  careless- 
ness, that  his  daughter  was  to  he  married  to  a  French- 
man named  Savaignan,  startled  me.  It  shed  a  great 
light  upon  me,  and  I  understood  my  own  position. 
I  wondered  even  at  that  moment  why  I  had  not  under- 
stood myself  sooner.  From  the  first  Louise  de  St. 
Maur  had  affected  me  beyond  and  unlike  any  other 
woman,  and  the  feeling  had  grown  without  check.  No 
doubt  Mr.  Arthur  had  really  thought  1  was  about  to 
fall  in  love  with  his  daughter  Marion,  but  1  knew 
better  and  Marion  knew  better,  and  both  knew,  too, 
now  that  neit'icr  wished  it  otherwise. 

As  I  ate  my  breakfast  I  nourished  a  hostility  to 
this  unknown  Frenchman  Savaignan,  who  had  come 
in  the  way  when  he  was  not  wanted.  That  Louise 
liked  me  I  knew,  and  perhaps  it  might  become  more 
than  liking.  At  any  rate,  I  determined  that  I  would 
see,  Savaignan  or  no  Savaignan.  That  may  not  have 
been  a  proper  resolution  to  be  taken  by  a  man  who 
was  in  a  certain  sense  a  guest  in  the  Chateau  de  St. 
Maur,  but  I  took  it  nevertheless,  for  I  argued  that 
Louise  might  be  as  hostile  to  this  marriage  as  I  was. 
I  spent  the  morning  alone  in  my  room,  but  at  noon 
Pierre  appeared  to  escort  me  to  dinner.  With  a  great 
and  natural  curiosity  I  looked  about  for  Savaignan, 
fearing  that  I  might  find  some  such  gay  and  gallant 
young  officer  as  Devizac. 

I  met  a  man  about  forty  years  old,  of  common 
face  and  figure.  Though  he  was  not  now  in  disguise 
or  shabby  attire,  but  wore  the  fine  uniform  of  a  French 
captain,  I  knew  at  once  the  spy  whom  Louise  and  I 


nvi 


206 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


flit' 


i  ' 


'iad  /net  in  New  York,  the  one  who  had  given  his  name 
at  Albany  as  Leloir.  But  I  repressed  all  knowledge  of 
it  beyond  a  slight  start  of  surprise,  which  no  one  may 
have  noticed.  Nor  did  he  affect  to  know  me.  That 
was  not  the  place  for  either  of  us  to  recall  an  earlier 
meeting.  .-;;.:-■'.■.-;:  .,..-/ .■'■;:\:y  /    .,-:.:,;"./.  -w,,.  L';;-' 

Mile,  de  St.  Maur  was  a  dazzling  picture.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  she  had  grown  in  beauty,  dignity,  and  grace, 
and  even  the  first  time  I  saw  her  I  had  been  quite  sure 
that  she  was  the  handsomest  woman  in  America.  She 
had  come  to  dinner  as  to  a  great  banquet,  arrayed 
with  the  splendor  of  a  maid  of  honor  at  the  court  of 
France,  and  Savaignan  gave  her  a  glance  of  pride  and 
proprietorship,  which  irritated  me.  She  acknowledged 
his  compliments  with  an  indifferent  air,  but  she  smiled 
at  mc.  As  the  dinner  progressed  I  became  sure 
that  she  did  not  like  Savaignan,  and  that  the  mar- 
riage arranged  between  them  was  not  with  any 
wish  of  hers.  The  belief  certainly  gave  me  a  deep 
sense  of  joy,  and  inspired  me  to  such  a  degree 
that  I  am  confident  I  talked  well  and  showed  at  my 
best. 

Captain  Savaignan  did  not  say  much.  The  sei- 
gneur at  last  noticed  Savaignan's  cold  treatment  by 
his  daughter,  and  he  frowned  often,  once  or  twice  at 
me  as  well  as  Louise.  I  felt  some  compunction,  but 
I  was  convinced  that  a  man  like  Savaignan,  whatever 
his  wealth  and  position  might  be,  was  no  fit  match  for 
her.  He  had  played  the  part  of  a  spy,  too,  and  the 
seigneur  should  not  want  a  spy  for  son-in-law.  More- 
over, she  was  unwilling,  or  I  believed  her  to  be.  My 
own  position  and  circumstances  at  home  were  not 
so  very  bad. 

My  confidence  in  the  justice  of  my  resolve  was 
increased  when  Father  Michel  came  into  my  room 
that  night  and  told  me  that  mademoiselle  was  much 


A    RIVAL    APPEARS. 


207 


jmiled 


averse  to  the  union.    The  good  father  was  garrulous 
and  disposed  to  be  friendly. 

"  It  is  not  what  the  seigneur  should  seek  fnr  his 
daughter,"  he  said,  "  for  mademoiselle  is  a  young  lady 
of  high  spirit  and  intellige^ice.  But  the  seigneur  wills 
it.  He  and  Savaignan's  father  were  comrades,  and 
he  has  ever  been  a  man  of  his  own  mind." 

•  I  have  neve*-  been  an  admirer  of  the  French  mode 
of  making  marriages. 

I  resolved  to  cultivate  the  friendship  of  the  good- 
natured  father,  thinking  that  I  might  secure  in  him 
a  useful  ally.  I  confided  to  him  that  I  had  seen 
Savaignan  playing  the  part  of  a  spy.  He  said  yes,  it 
was  true,  and  he  had  been  much  praised  in  Quebec 
for  his  boldness.  For  my  part,  I  think  little  of  spies. 
I  do  not  think  an  officer  should  undertake  the  role, 
and  I  wondered  why  it  had  not  set  the  seigneur  against 
Savaignan. 

I  found  m^ny  opportunities  for  carrying  out  this 
plan  of  cultivating  Father  Michel,  as,  aided  by  the  surly 
Pierre,  he  became  in  a  measure  my  jailer.  Under  the 
escort  of  the  two,  I  was  allowed  to  go  about  the  city, 
though  I  was  compelled  to  keep  away  from  the  walls. 
But  I  saw  enough  to  know  that  the  French,  despite 
all  their  victories,  were  in  a  bad  way.  High  officials 
were  robbing  soldiers  and  people,  and  the  help  that 
France  ought  to  send  did  not  come. 

I  talked  to  Failier  Michel  about  these  things.  I 
told  him  that  the  English  and  Americans  would  surely 
overrun  Canada,  and  that  the  gallantry  of  Montcalm 
and  his  men  might  postpone  but  could  not  prevent 
the  day  when  Quebec  would  fall.  He  listened,  half 
convinced,  and  treated  me  with  increasing  courtesy, 
as  if  I  were  a  man  who  might  become  his  jailer  after 
he  had  been  mine. 

On  one  of  our  little  walks  we  met  Mile.  Louise 


208 


A   SOLDIEP    OF    MANHATTAN. 


1   : 


I'f'^. 


m  W 


and  her  maid  Marie.  I  have  never  known  any  reasort 
why  a  man  should  not  profit  by  his  oppprtunities, 
and,  finding  that  she  was  going  to  the  chateau,  I 
walked  with  her,  the  priest,  with  obliging  humor, 
falling  behind. 

It  was  a  crisp,  cold  day,  but  we  were- well  wrapped 
in  furs,  and  she  smiled  so  brilliantly  upon  me  that  I 
wished  the  journey  might  be  twice  as  long.  Just  be- 
fore we  reached  the  chateau  the  seigneur  came  out  of 
a  little  cross  street  and,  seeing  us,  frowned.  He  came 
forward  and  joined  us,  and  his  displeasure  was  so  ob- 
vious that  it  cast  a  chill  over  us  all.  But  Louise  re- 
mained cheerful  in  appearance.  She  gave  him  a  look 
that  was  half  defiance,  and  walked  by  my  side  until 
we  entered  the  chateau.  It  was  evident  that  she  had  a 
spirit  of  her  own. 

But  that  was  the  last  of  my  walks  in  the  streets 
of  Quebec.  The  seigneur  came  to  me  the  next  day 
and  said  it  would  be  necessary  to  send  me  away  from 
the  city.  The  orders  had  become  so  strict  that  eithef 
I  must  be  kept  in  close  confinement,  which  would 
ruin  my  health,  or  I  must  be  sent  elsewhere.  He 
would  like  to  arrange  an  exchange  for  me,  but  it 
could  not  be  done  just  then.  So  Pierre  and  Father 
Michel  would  take  me  to  his  country  chateau  up  the 
river. 

I  was  convinced  that  our  meeting  the  day  before 
was  the  cause  of  this  transfer,  but  I  was  not  in  a  posi- 
tion to  say  anything.  There  was  nothing  for  me  to 
do  but  to  prepare  for  the  journey  and  make  the  best 
of  it  I  could.  I  sought  for  an  opportunity  to  speak 
to  Louise  before  I  left,  and  luck  and  her  maid  Marie, 
who  was  my  friend,  aiding  me,  I  found  it.  I  was  in- 
spired with  some  boldness,  and  I  said  that  if  I  returned 
to  Quebec  I  hoped  I  would  not  find  her  Madame 
Savaignan.    I  had  never  before  made  any  allusion  to 


A    RIVAL    APPEARS. 


209 


this  proposed  marriage.  She  flushed  a  little,  and, 
avoiding  the  direct  issue,  said  she  had  no  doubt  that 
Miss  Arthur,  of  New  York,  \vuld  be  glad  to  hear 
that  I  was  kept  safe  from  harm.  Thereupon  I  pro- 
tested with  such  vigor,  as  I  had  protested  once  before, 
that  Marion  Arthur  was  nothing  to  me  that  she  could 
not  fail  to  understand  my  meaning,  and  blushed  most 
divinely.  But  the  matter  did  not  go  any  further  just 
then,  for  Father  Michel  arrived  with  the  word  that  it 
was  time  for  us  to  go. 

The  seigneur  bade  me  farewell  with  dignity,  and 
yet  witn  a  certain  warmth  of  feeling  that  betokened 
friendship.  He  seemed  to  feel  a  little  shame,  as  if  he 
were  playing  a  trick  upon  me,  but  I  appeared  not  to 
notice  it. 

*'  The  manor  house  may  lack  some  of  the  con- 
veniences of  the  city,"  he  said,  "  but  my  people  will  en- 
deavor to  make  you  comfortable  there.  And,  remem- 
ber, don't  try  to  escape,  for  Pierre  v/ill  be  always  close 
at  your  heels."  . 

Louise  gave  me  her  hand  in  silence,  and  I  gave 
it  a  slight  squeeze  also  in  silence,  which  the  tall  old 
seigneur  did  not  notice,  and  then  we  stepped  into  our 
sledge  and  departed.  Before  we  had  gone  far  I 
looked  back  once  and  saw  her  standing  in  the  door- 
way. I  waved  rny  hand  a  little;  she  replied  with  a 
similar  gesture,  and  then  went  into  the  house. 

"  She  is  betrothed  to  Savaignan,"  said  Father 
Michel  reprovingly.        '■'--  -    "  •*       -•  : :    ^  » =.     i 

"  Not  with  her  consent,"  I  replied  with  emphasis, 
*'  nor  is  she  yet  married  to  him." 

The  priest  said  no  more,  and  before  we  reached 
the  gate  we  met  Devizac,  who  had  returned  to  Quebec 
on  the  day  before,  though  he  had  not  been  yet  to  the 
Chateau  de  St.  Maur.  I  told  him  where  I  was  going 
and  why. 


n^  :;• 


f 


h 


i 


210 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


"  I  see,"  he  said,  "  they  are  sendinj  yon  away  for 
the  sake  of  your  own  safety." 

"Yes,"  I  replied.  V    '      - 

"  Umph! "  he  saiJ.  "  No  doubt  the  movement  will 
contribute  also  to  Captain  Savaignan's  peace  of  mind." 

I  did  not  reply,  but  I  saw  that  Devizac's  keen  mind 
had  at  once  pierced  the  matter,  and  that  in  my  absence 
he  would  still  stand  my  friend.  He  gave  me  the 
strong  grip  of  true  friendship,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we 
were  through  the  gate  and  speeding  up  the  river  to 
the  manor  house  of  Raymond  de  St.  Maur,  some  forty 
miles  away.  •*.     *       •      ^   "• 

We  reached  the  place  by  dusk,  and  founa  it  more 
of  a  blockhouse  than  a  chateau.  Father  Michel  said 
that  in  earlier  days  a  few  Frenchmen  behmd  its  walls 
had  held  back  the  hostile  Indians  more  than  once.  It 
was  furnished  with  rude  though  sufficient  comfort, 
and  was  guarded  by  several  worn  old  servitors,  pen- 
sioners of  the  seigneur's,  all  the  strong  men  having 
been  drawn  oft  for  the  war.  But  decrepit  as  they  were, 
they  kept  the  most  faithful  watch  upon  me,  aided  by 
Pierre  and  the  priest,  and  I  saw  no  opportunity  to 
escape.     ••  •    ■     '        "        •■ 

Thus  the  weeks  passed,  and  the  winter  began  to 
yield.  The  ice  in  the  river  broke  up,  and  the  snow 
was  melting.  A  fair  degree  of  outdoor  liberty  was  per- 
mitted to  me,  though  I  was  always  watched  by  Pierre 
or  some  of  the  others.  They  carried  arms,  and  I  knew 
that  any  attempt  of  mine  to  escape  would  be  the  signal 
for  a  bullet.  But  with  the  fresh  air  and  the  exercise 
in  the  grounds  of  the  manor,  I  preserved  all  my  health 
and  strength.  My  muscles  were  as  firm  and  my  step 
as  elastic  as  ever. 

But  as  more  weeks  passed  my  stay  there  became 
terribly  irksome.  The  good  priest  ceased  to  tell  me 
much  about  the  outside  world.     I  knew  little  of  the 


;^ 


A    RIVAL    APPEARS. 


2IX 


war's  progress,  and  I'^ss  of  the  Chateau  de  St.  Maur 
in  Quebec  and  of  the  seigneur  and  of;  Mile.  Louise,  his 
daughter.  I  pined  like  a  sick  girl.  I  had  an  intense 
longing  to  be  with  our  own  army  and  to  be  on  active 
duty  again.  I  wondered  what  had  become  of  Culver- 
house  and  Zeb  Crane  and  Spencer  and  the  others.  It 
is  very  har^  to  be  a  prisoner  when  one  is  only  twenty- 
three.      -'  ;■'  '  .  .  . .     •  ■      ■.   -.  •.       .■.,_.■■.:■;;.;;, 

The  Canadian  spring  came,  and  the  world  turned 
green  under  the  south  wind.  It  made  the  fever  to  be 
free  grow  in  my  veins.  About  this  time  Father  Michel 
went  to  Quebec  and  remained  two  days,  and  when  he 
returned  he  was  sour  and  silent,  and  refused  to  answer 
any  questions.  I  became  provoked  with  him,  and  at 
last  said: 

"  Father  Michel,  you  have  called  yourself  a  friend 
•of  mine,  but  you  are  not  as  good  as  your  word." 
^-.  "  Perhaps  I  am  better,"  he  replied.  "  Here,  take 
this  note  that  baggage  Marie  gave  me  for  you,  and 
which  I  promised  to  deliver.  My  conscience  and  my 
duty  to  the  seigneur  forbid  my  giving  it  to  you,  but 
I  suppose  I  must  keep  m.y  word." 

Then  he  went  away  abruptly,  leaving  me  to  read 
my  letter. 

It  was  from  Louise,  and  to  any  other  would  have 
seemed  a  commonplace  little  note.  She  informed  me 
that  her  father  and  herself  were  well,  and  nothing  of 
note  had  happened  at  the  Chateau  de  St.  Maur.  She 
trusted  that  I  was  in  good  health,  and  was  not  uncom- 
fortable at  the  manor  house.  That  was  all,  and  it  was 
signed  "  Louise  de  St.  Maur." 

But  the  signature  rejoiced  me  more  than  anything 
in  the  letter,  for  I  did  not  know  until  then  how  strong 
had  been  my  fears  that  in  spite  of  everything  she  had 
become  Madame  Savaignan. 

I  was  so  happy  for  several  days  that  Father  Michel 


212 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


t  '•'  f 


Ki 


a^ti 


looked  at  me  very  g-Iumly,  and  complained  that  his 
conscience  was  giving  him  severe  hurt.  I  only 
laughed.  But  as  no  more  news  came  and  the  old 
deadly  routine  continued,  my  high  spirits  soon  de- 
parted. I  swore  to  myself  that  I  could  not  stand  it 
any  longer,  and  prepared  to  take  the  desperate  chances 
of  escape.  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  would  have  become 
a  victim  of  Pierre's  bullet  had  not  Father  Michel  come 
to  me  on  the  day  preceding  the  night  I  had  set  for  the 
attempt  and  announced  that  we  were  to  return  to 
Quebec  and  the  Chateau  de  St.  Maur.  I  was  pleased 
greatly  at  the  news.  I  would  have  preferred  anything 
except  death  to  life  at  that  lonely  country  house  at 
such  a  time.  But  I  concealed  my  dislike,  and  asked 
indififerently  the  reason. 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you,"  said  Father  Michel, 
"  that  there  has  been  a  change  of  fortune,  and  the 
French  cause  seems  to  be  losing.  The  English,  so  it  is 
reported,  are  coming  up  the  river  with  a  great  fleet, 
and  Quebec  is  likely  to  be  besieged.  All  the  lame,  the 
old,  and  the  priests,  too,  are  wanted  for  its  defense, 
and,  not  knowing  what  else  to  do  with  you,  back  we 
take  you  with  us." 

This  was  great  news,  and  the  zest  of  life  returned 
to  m.e.  We  started  that  very  day,  but  on  horseback 
this  time,  and  when  we  approached  Quebec  I  couM 
see  that  the  lines  of  defense  had  been  increased  since 
I  left.  It  was  not  permitted  me  to  observe  long.  I 
was  escorted  through  the  gates  and  taken  at  once  to 
the  Chateau  de  St.  Maur,  with  but  a  glimpse  of  the 
streets  a.s  I  passed.  But  it  was  sufficient  to  convince 
me  that  all  trade  and  ordinary  life  had  ceased,  and 
Quebec  was  but  an  armed  camp.  I  suspected  that 
military  matters  were  even  nearer  to  a  great  crisis 
than  Father  Michel  had  said. 


;.?.     '^       CHAPTER   XX.   '^V,t  .  .>>' 

;V-/''i       THE   SOUND   OF   THE   GUNS.   '  **  -^^ '. 

The  Chateau  de  St.  }Aaur  was  massive  and  silent 
as  we  approached.  To  Pierre's  resounding  knocks 
the  seigneur  himself,  a  little  more  worn  and  anxious, 
but  as  stern  and  defiant  as  ever,  responded.  He  gave 
me  a  dubious  welcome,  half  pleasure,  for  I  knew  he 
liked  me,  and  half  regret  that  I  should  be  there  again. 

**  I  was  sorry  to  disturb  you  in  your  enjoyment  of 
country  life,  Lieutenant  Charteris,"  he  said,  with  an 
attempt  at  lightness,  "  but  we  could  not  leave  you  there 
to  live  that  life  '^'one." 

I  said  that  I  preferred  Quebec  even  as  a  prisoner, 
and  then  we  went  into  the  house.  I  saw  nothing  of 
Louise,  and  the  seigneur  did  not  refer  to  her.  On 
her  father's  account  I  asked  nothing  about  her.  But 
I  met  her  presently  in  one  of  the  halls  accompanied  by 
her  maid,  and  the  brightness  of  her  eye  and  the  deep- 
ening roses  in  her  cheeks  told  me  that  I  had  lost  noth- 
ing by  absence.  '    ,    ' 

Marie  was  a  discreet  little  woman,  and,  as  I  have 
said,  a  friend  of  mine.  Sne  walked  some  yards  away, 
and  while  she  was  staring  at  the  ceiling  I  told  Louise 
that  I  trusted  she  v^ould  never  become  Madame  Sa- 
vaignan.  She  shook  her  head  as  if  in  doubt,  and 
blushed,  and  then  Marie  came  back  and  took  her 
away.  A  half  hour  later  Marie  brought  me  word 
that  the  seigneur  wished  to  see  me. 

213 


214 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


Pi  1 


I  went  down  to  the  room  in  which  the  seigneur 
and  I  had  fought  our  mock  duel,  and  found  him  alone 
and  much  troubled. 

"  Father  Michel  has  perhaps  told  you,"  he  said, 
**  that  Quebec  is  likely  to  be  besieged  very  soon.  Al- 
though it  is  against  my  wish,  I  shall  be  compelled  to 
keep  you  a  close  prisoner  for  awhile,  but  I  do  not  think 
it  will  be  long."        .    . 

"  Do  you  anticipate  the  speedy  fall  of  Quebec?  "  I 
asked. 

.  The  old  seigneur,  grand  seigneur,  drew  himself  up 
in  defiance,  and  his  eyes  flashed  at  the  thought  of  sur- 
render. 

"  The  English  take  Quebec !  "  he  exclaimed.  **  Not 
while  Montcalm  is  here  and  has  with  him  Frenchmen 
as  true  as  himself! "  i^-         "'^; 

It  was  such  a  defiance  as  I  had  expected,  and  to 
hear  it  was  why  I  had  asked  the  question. 

With  more  apologies  for  locking  me  up,  he  went 
back  with  me  to  my  room  and  left  me  there.  I  spent 
two  days  in  that  little  chamber  alone,  save  for  the 
visits  of  Pierre  and  Father  Michel.  The  priest  told  me 
that  the  seigneur  was  nearly  always  absent  now  from 
the  chateau,  helping  in  the  preparations  for  the  defense 
of  the  city. 

I  would  hear  sometimes  a  great  clash  of  arms  and 
military  music  in  the  street,  and  I  would  have  given 
much  to  see  what  was  going  on,  but  I  was  compelled 
to  content  myself  with  surmises.  ,    ;• 

"  Come  out  of  this  room,"  said  Father  Michel  to 
me  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  "  and  you  can 
see  the  troops  that  are  going  to  pass  to-day.  I  do 
not  think  you  are  likely  to  escape  so  long  as  you  are 
in  my  company," 

I  accepted  the  invitation  with  gladness,  and  we 
went  out  into  a  narrow  hall  and  then  up  a  steep  little 


THE    SOUND    OF    THE    GUNS. 


215 


we 
ittle 


flight  of  steps  to  one  of  the  dormer  windows  in  the 
roof.  The  good  father  opened  it,  and  the  fresh  air 
of  God  rushed  in  on  my  face.  I  had  been  only  two 
days  in  close  confinement,  but  that  was  two  days  too 
much. 

The  priest  and  I  thrust  our  heads  out  and  looked 
about  us.  I  did  not  see  much  but  a  narrow  street  and 
a  maze  of  red-tiled  roofs,  but  it  was  enough  to  bring 
back  my  old  fierce  desire  for  liberty.         •  '     ,  '. 

/    "  Listen  to  the  drum,"  said  Father  Michel.    "The 
troops  are  coming."     .     •  .  .  •  _.  ,-. 

I  heard  the  faint  rat-a-tat  in  the  clear  air.  Soon 
it  grew  louder  and  swelled  in  volume,  trumpet  and  fife 
mingling  with  the  deeper  notes  of  the  drum.  Then  a 
regiment  of  French  regulars,  in  their  white  uniforms, 
marching  with  beautiful  precision,  came  in  sight.  Be- 
hind them  were  Canadian  huntsmen  in  forest  green. 
Aloft  upon  a  banner  borne  in  the  front  rank  waved 
the  lilies  of  France.  The  music  grew  louder.  Though 
I  was  an  enemy,  I  was  also  a  military  man,  and  it  ap- 
pealed to  me.  The  people  in  the  street  set  up  a  great 
shout,  and  I  heard  a  slight  feminine  cheer  very  near 
me.  I  looked  around  and  saw  that  it  was  Louise. 
She  was  standing  at  the  dormer  window  next  to  us, 
her  face  flushed  with  enthusiasm  and  looking  more 
brilliant  and  beautiful  than  ever  in  the  clear  daylight. 
A  bow  of  satin  ribbon  on  her  shoulder  was  knotted 
into  the  likeness  of  the  hlies  of  France.  I  could  for- 
give the  enthusiasm  she  showed,  for  she  was  a  French- 
woman and  these  were  her  people. 

.  Some  of  the  soldiers  in  the  street,  seeing  her  face 
at  the  window,  raised  a  cheer.  The  officers  drew  their 
swords  and  saluted  her  with  great  grace  and  gallantry. 
Knowing  somewhat  of  the  feelings  of  soldiers,  especial- 
ly youthful  ones,  I  was  aware  that  her  brilliant  and 
approving  face  at  the  window  cheered  and  inspired 


2l6 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


lU 


•} 


these  men.  I  groaned  inwardly  at  my  own  fate  which 
kept  me  bound  there  a  prisoner. 

The  soldiers  passed  on.  The  cheering  crowd  fol- 
lowed them,  and  the  sound  of  music  became  fainter. 

"  They  are  gone,"  said  Father  Michel.  "  May  vic- 
tory attend  them !  " 

"  I  add  my  wish  to  that,"  said  Louise,  "  but  it  is 
a  sad  war."  Then  her  face  fell  as  she  looked  at  me. 
I  believed  that  I  could  read  her  mind.  She  could  not 
be  the  daughter  of  her  father  and  not  have  the  true 
French  spirit  and  patriotism,  but  such  feelings  were 
forced  to  encounter  other  emotions  now. 

I  remained  silent  and  went  back  to  my  prison, 
growing  morbid  over  the  thoughts  that  I  must  remain 
shut  up  there  while  others  were  doing  or  trying  to  do 
great  things.  ••    ,     .V,   >"  ^'  -     ' 

Pierre  brought  my  supper  and  left  candles.  I  sat 
for  a  long  time  meditating,  looking  now  and  then  up 
at  the  little  dormer  window,  which,  however,  seemed 
to  hold  out  no  possibility  of  escape.  It  grew  dark 
outside,  and  I  had  decided  to  end  my  meditations  for 
the  time  by  going  to  bed  and  seeking  a  sound  sleep 
when  I  heard  a  heavy,  dull  report  far  away,  but  dis- 
tinct, and  echoing  through  the  night. 

I  remained  quite  still  and  listened  intently.  In  two 
or  three  minutes  I  heard  the  booming  sound  again, 
and  then  the  echo.  I  knew  that  if  was  the  report  of 
a  heavy  cannon,  and,  moreover,  that  the  bombard- 
ment of  Quebec  had  begun.  Perhaps  it  had  begun 
before  my  arrival,  and  this  was  but  a  renewal  after  a 
period  of  rest. 

For  an  hour  I  sat  there,  and  I  counted  fourteen 
distinct  reports;  then  they  ceased,  the  fire  probably 
stopped  by  the  increasing  darkness.  I  was  thrilled 
With  excitement,  and  it  was  a  long  time  before  I  could 
compose  myself  for  sleep.    In  fact,  I  lay  awake  many 


THE    SOUND    OF    THE    GUNS. 


217 


hours  listening  for  the  great  guns,  but  I  did  not  hear 
them  any  more  that  night. 

The  seigneur  seemed  to  repent  of  his  severity,  and 
on  the  next  day  more  hberty  was  permitted  to  me. 
I  could  go  about  the  halls  on  the  upper  floor,  but  I 
was  watched  always  by  that  sour- faced  wretch  Pierre, 
who  carried  a  long-barreled  pistol  in  his  belt.  He 
never  relaxed  his  vigilance,  as  I  soon  discovered.  I 
remembered  the  dormer  window  from  which  I  had 
seen  the  soldiers,  and  thought  it  would  be  pleasant 
to  take  the  fresh  air  again.  I  mounted  to  the  little 
flight  of  steps,  and  was  feeling  around  for  the  fasten- 
ings when  the  voice  of  Pierre  spoke  out: 

"  If  monsieur  is  attempting  to  escape,  he  will  show 
wisdom  by  abandoning  the  effort.  I  have  a  very  large 
ball  in  my  pistol,  and  the  wound  it  would  make  would 
probably  mean  death."  I  looked  around  and  saw 
Pierre  with  his  long  pistol  in  his  hand.  I  assured  him 
with  some  haste  that  it  was  not  my  purpose  to  leave 
the  chateau,  and  that  I  was  merely  bent  upon  taking 
the  air. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  much  better  if  monsieur  would 
return  to  the  room  that  has  been  assigned  to  him," 
he  said. 

I  took  him  at  his  word  and  went  back   to  my 

room.  ■^■•V--  ^,-.   ^Vv-':^  ■;.-;,,•',.-.;:>■.-.;>,.  ^::- 

I  foresaw  that  if  ever  I  escaped  I  would  have  to 
foil  Pierre.  .  ■-■::■'';-,. -o^-- ■'•;;  --./  'v.- ;.--■:>  i;-.  ■:•;- 

Two  or  three  days  more  passed  thus.  I  saw  the 
seigneur  once,  Louise  twice,  though  but  briefly,  and 
Father  Michel  often.  The  good  priest  was  much  pre- 
occupied, but  in  reply  to  my  questioning  about  the 
bombardment,  which  I  heard  at  intervals,  he  said  the 
English  were  making  no  progress.  But  he  added  that 
the  fire  of  the  ships  was  doing  damage  in  the  town, 
and  the  quarrels  among  the  great  officials  were  in- 


Wr^ 


T 


218 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


Mr 


creasing.  With  such  small  rations  of  news  I  was 
forced  to  content  myself. 

I  was  sitting  in  my  chamber  one  ^vening  after  my 
last  talk  with  him,  thinking  with  much  gloom  over 
my  situation,  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  music  below. 
It  was  of  a  light  and  frolicsome  character,  and  I  won- 
dered greatly  thereat;  but  to  wonder  was  all  1  could 
do.  My  door  was  locked,  the  wretch  Pierre  having 
done  it,  and  I  could  not  get  out  to  see.  This  pro- 
ceeded for  some  time,  and  I  was  filled  with  curiosity, 
but  I  could  make  nothing  of  it.  Occasionally  above 
the  music  rose  the  sound  of  voices  in  laughter. 

I  had  been  listening  to  these  sounds  for  about  an 
hour  when  I  heard  some  one  at  my  door.  It  was 
thrown  open,  and  the  round  and  rubicund  Father 
Michel  entered.  His  face  was  all  abeam  with  good 
humor. 

"  Well,  M.  le  Prisonnier,"  he  broke  out,  "  I  told 
the  seigneur  it  was  not  ryght  that  you  should  be  locked 
up  here,  heretic  and  enemy  though  you  be,  while  we 
were  enjoying  our  festivities. ' 

"Festivities!"  I  said.  "That  accounts  for  the 
music  that  I  have  heard." 

"  You  speak  truth,"  said  Father  Michel,  "  and  a 
portion  of  that  music  was  made  by  Mile,  de  St.  Maur 
herself  upon  her  harp,  which  was  brought  all  the  way 
from  France.  K'  ow  then  that  Captain  Savaignan  has 
returned  to  Qr.cboc.  Whether  he  has  distinguished 
himself  in  the  ws.  I  know  not,  but  the  seigneur  would 
make  a  feast  for  his  son-in-law  that  is  to  be,  and  he 
is  now  present  with  other  guests  in  the  great  dining 
hall  below.  So  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  the  house 
is  free  to  you  for  an  hour  or  two." 

I  was  greatly  disturbed  by  Savaignan's  return  and 
the  news  that  a  banquet  was  made  for  him — a  banquet 
to  which  it  seemed  I  had  been  invited  only  as  an  after 


THE    SOUND    OF    THE    GUNS. 


219 


the 


thought  or  as  a  concession  to  bare  poHtencss.  Sus- 
pecting that  1  was  not  wanted,  and  that  my  presence 
would  be  a  restri^int  upon  the  hilarity  of  the  company, 
I  told  leather  Michel  I  would  not  join  him  at  the 
table,  but  I  accepted  the  freedom  of  the  house. 

**  Since  you  will  not  go  with  me  then,  1  must  re- 
turn alone  to  the  banquet  cliamber,"  said  Father 
Michel,  *'  for  the  wine  there  is  good  and  the  venison 
is  good  and  the  company  is  good,  and  I  would  fain 
miss  none  of  them." 

He  left  me  alone  in  the  hall,  and  I  wandered  about 
the  chateau,  examining  its  curious  construction,  so  dif- 
ferent from  the  mode  of  building  we  practiced  in  the 
colonies,  and  listening  now  and  then  to  the  sounds 
of  revelry,  which  now  I  could  hear  much  more  plainly. 
I  was  stirred,  too,  by  feelings  of  jealousy.  Louise 
might  yield  at  last  to  her  father's  wish.  /  ' ' 

I  went  to  the  dormer  window  again,  but  found  it 
fastened.  Through  the  diamond  pane  I  could  see 
splashes  of  rain  whirled  about  by  the  wind  in  the  dusk. 
It  was  a  fit  night  for  the  French  to  make  merry  in- 
doors. 

I  turned  away  from  the  window  and  went  down  the 
hall  until  I  came  to  the  flight  of  steps  that  led  to  the 
lower  floor.  They  were  unobstructed.  I  went  softly 
down  the  steps,  somewhat  struck  by  the  fact  that  there 
was  no  one  about,  and  arrived  in  the  lower  hall.  I 
strolled  along,  listening  to  the  echoes  of  the  music  and 
the  laughter,  and  became  aware  that  some  one  was 
following  me.  It  was  not  that  I  heard  any  noise 
behind  me;  it  was  merely  an  aroused  consciousness,  a 
sense  of  human  presence,  conveyed  to  me  by  some  un- 
known agency. 

I  turned  about,  and  there  was  Pierre  treading  silent- 
ly. He  said  nothing  when  I  looked  at  him,  but  stopped 
and  watched  me.  I  moved  on,  and  Pierre  followed 
15 


iif'! 


UjfTw 


220 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


after.  When  I  stopped  again  he  stopped  also,  and 
when  I  started  again  he  started  also.  There  was  much 
annoyance  in  this,  but  it  would  have  been  useless  to 
speak  to  Pierre,  so  I  made  up  my  mind  even  to  endure 
it  as  best  I  could. 

I  passed  in  front  of  the  banquet  hall  and  listened 
for  a  few  minutes.  I  heard  mademoiselle  singing  a 
piquant  and  pict'iresque  little  song  of  the  south  of 
France,  and  accompanying  herself  upon  the  harp.  I 
listened  with  much  pleasure  and  attention.  There  was 
a  note  in  the  singer's  voice  which  appealed  to  my  sym- 
pathy. When  the  song  ended  there  was  a  great  clap- 
ping of  hands  and  chorus  of  bravos.  Then  everybody 
fell  to  laughing  and  talking,  and  I  moved  on,  feeling 
much  bitterness  of  spirit,  for  I  was  but  young,  and 
liked  to  share  in  scenes  of  good  humor  and  gaycty. 

But  as  I  left  I  heard  the  seigneur  call  in  a  stalwart 
voice,  a  little  husky  with  wine  perhaps,  for  Pierre. 
There  was  relief  in  that,  for  then  I  might  slip  away 
from  the  pestiferous  spy;  not  that  I  had  any  inten- 
tion or  hope  of  escaping,  but  'tis  an  uncomfortable 
thing  to  be  followed  around  and  spied  upon  by  any 
one. 

I  went  farther  down  the  hall,  and  saw  a  door  stand- 
ing half  open.  Knowing  no  reason  why  I  should  not 
explore,  I  pushed  it  farther  open  and  entered  a  very 
small  apartment  furnished  in  half  military  style.  I 
judged  it  to  be  a  species  of  lounging  room  of  the 
seigneur's.  It  was  lighted  by  one  of  the  heavily  cross- 
barred  windows  which  opened  upon  the  street.  I  lay 
hold  of  this  window,  but  found  it  to  be  fastened  in 
such  a  way  that  I  could  not  open  it.  Accordingly, 
I  pulled  a  chair  made  of  curiously  twisted  deer  horns 
and  stuffed  with  fur  up  to  the  window  and  sat  in  it, 
determined  to  make  myself  as  comfortable  as  the  cir- 
cumstances v/ould  permit.    The  noises  of  the  banquet 


THE    SOUND    OF    THE    GUNS. 


221 


),  and 

much 
less  to 
endure 

istened 
?ing  a 
uth  of 
arp.     I 
:re  was 
y  sym- 
it  clap- 
rybody 
feelinj^: 
ig,  and 
.ycty. 
stalwart 
Pierre, 
p  away 
inten- 
"ortable 
by  any 

r  stand- 
iild  not 
a  very 
yle.     I 
of  the 
cross- 
I  lay 
ened  in 
rdingly, 
T  horns 
at  in  it, 
the  cir- 
banqiiet 


came  to  me  but  faintly  there.  The  street  seemed  to 
be  without  life,  and,  as  there  was  nothing  to  occupy 
my  eyes  or  my  ears,  I  fell  to  thinking  of  my  old  com- 
panions, Culverhouse  and  the  others. 

Presently  I  heard  male  voices  singing.  Doubtless 
the  guests  had  drunk  much  wine  by  this  time,  and 
Mile,  de  St.  Maur  had  withdrawn,  for  the  Frenh 
women  have  not  the  freedom  which  is  accorded  to  ours 
in  America.  The  song  was  gay  in  words  and  tune, 
and  I  found  it  to  be  of  such  soothing  quality  that  I 
fell  half  asleep  listening.  When  one  is  dozing  thus  he 
is  scarce  coriscious  of  the  passage  of  time,  and  perhaps 
it  was  very  late  when  I  was  aroused  by  a  hasty  foot- 
step and  a  voice  crying,  "  Keep  away,  monsieur!  " 
half  in  fright  and  half  in  anger. 

Louise  had  entered  the  little  room  and  was  stand- 
ing with  her  face  to  the  door.  The  light  filtered 
through  the  panes  upon  her  face,  which  was  flushed, 
while  her  eyes  were  sparkling  with  wrath.  Her  anger, 
like  everything  else,  it  seemed  to  me,  became  her. 
Then  I  looked  beyond  her  and  saw  Captain  Savaignan 
in  the  doorway. 

I  had  not  at  any  time  seen  any  particulars  in  which 
Captain  Savaignan  called  for  admiration,  and  just  now 
the  seigneur  himself  could  not  have  "lalled  him  en- 
gaging, however  much  he  might  have  wished  for  him 
as  a  son-in-law.  He  staggered  against  the  doorsill 
and  leered  at  Louise. 

"You  shall  not  follow  me  here!"  said  she,  very 
angrily. 

"  I  but  wish  to  salute  Mile,  de  St.  Maur,  who  is 
soon  to  be  Madame  Savaignan,"  he  said  with  a 
drunken  hiccough. 

"  That  time  will  never  come,"  she  said  disdain- 
fully. 

**  It  is  the  will  of  your  father,"  he  said. 


222 


A    SOLDIE'R    OF    MANHATTAN. 


"  But  not  mine,"  she  returned  with  flashing  eyes, 
"  and  I  refuse  now  to  carry  out  the  contract." 

Dear  Louise!  How  beautiful  she  looked  in  her 
wrath! 

*'  Mademoiselle  has  queer  taste.  If  she  does  not 
like  me,  Captain  Savaignan,  perhaps  she  likes  some 
one  else,"  said  he. 

Mile,  de  St.  Maur  did  not  answer. 

*'  Some  one  else!  Some  one  else!  "  he  repeated  in 
a  kind  of  drunken  soliloquy.  "  It  is  the  prisoner,  the 
American  lieutenant,  whom  the  seigneur  holds  in  this 
chateau!  Yes,  that  is  the  man  whom  mademoiselle 
prefers  to  me.  I  knew  it  long  ago  when  I  saw  you 
together  in  New  York." 

He  slapped  his  hands  together  in  glee  1''  e  k>oy 
who  has  solved  a  riddle.  Louise  reddened,  but  she 
remained  silent. 

Savaignan  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"  Well,  it  does  not  matter,"  he  said. 

"  Out  of  my  way,  sir! "  she  exclaimed  fiercely. 

But  he  slipped  forward  and  seized  her  by  both 
wrists.  The  next  moment  he  would  have  kissed  her, 
but  I  sprang  from  the  chair  and,  striking  him  with  all 
tb/j  force  of  an  arm  which  had  a  fine  endowment  of 
muscle,  sent  him  sprawling  against  the  wall.  From 
the  wall  he  rebounded  and  fell  in  a  limp  heap  upon  the 
floor. 

Louise  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise  and  relief  when 
she  saw  me  and  fled  from  the  room. 

I  could  not  follow  her,  for  Savaignan  demanded 
my  attention. 

He  rose  from  the  floor  and  faced  me.  He  was  a 
most  unpresentable  sight.  My  blow  seemed  to  have 
sobered  him,  but  it  had  caused  the  blood  to  flow  over 
his  yellow  face  and  to  dye  red  streaks  in  his  black, 
mustache. 


'fi 


THE    SOUND    OF    THE    GUNS. 


223 


"  And  so  it  is  the  prisoner  who  has  interfered ! " 
he  said,  with  what  he  intended  to  be  very  sharp  sar- 
casm. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  it  was  my  good  luck  to  pro- 
tect Mile,  de  St.  Maur  from  you,  you  spy." 

"  Perhaps  she  did  not  desire  protection,"  he  said. 

"  I  would  give  you  another  blow  for  that,  but  your 
face  is  already  too  ugly,"  I  replied. 

"  I  shall  s  2  that  the  seigneur  punishes  his  prisoner 
for  a  blow  and  an  insult  to  his  guest,  the  man  to  whom 
he  has  chosen  to  give  his  daughter,"  he  said.  "  Pierre 
here  shall  be  a  witness  of  what  I  say." 

Pierre  had  appeared  suddenly  at  the  side  of  Savai- 
g:ian  like  a  wraith  rising  up  from  the  floor,  but  I  did 
not  care  for  either  him  or  Savaignan.  I  felt  a  great 
exhilaration.  I  had  saved  the  girl  I  loved  from  insult 
and  I  had  punished  the  insulter.  So  I  told  them  care- 
lessly that  they  might  do  whatsoever  they  chose,  even 
to  going  out  and  jumping  into  the  St.  Lawrence  if  they 
felt  like  it,  and  then  I  went  back  to  my  prison  room 
sure  that  the  banquet  had  come  to  a  sudden  end,  for 
a  few  minutes  later  I  heard  the  rapid  boom  of  great 
guns,  and  I  knew  that  the  presence  of  all  the  officers 
would  be  demanded  at  the  scene  of  action.  Savaignan, 
I  said  to  myself,  with  much  satisfaction,  would  be  a 
more  presentable  sight  for  the  next  day  or  two  in  a 
camp  than  in  a  drawing  room.  .  ..^       .  ,- . 


■y  I.  -    .-. 
•I      ' 


■ «( •,.' 


.i^ti-.Ji:.^,  . 


ii: 


Ft     'A 


V  W : 


jfP 


.'     .      .    .                      ■'*".    '   .'     ',,■",■"  ,*        *       .              ..'"'"         '             ..." 

•    •        «...      :•  •.  ••.  *■          ;, 

-.^^  /.v^;^...^•^;^'tf•.,;v:•-^:v.^•■■■.  ■•'•  r. 

•  •    ••      .•     ••..»■               ..';•..,;•■..        .■■'■.:■.■■    ■    -V     •  . 

..  •r:v-..      %.••.'     •'vVt'vv^Vv  .'■■'"■.■      ■■-•■■  ■  V  >" 

"  ■"'/^■•••••':;,.rr-v^^-'* '*;■''*'■  •  '     i 

,     "\ 

CHAPTER  XXI.  .l*";>  i  •::;.  •■.5;  v^^^:' ':  S' 

r 

■  ■  .•:  ;"■      •    ' '    ■%•.  •.•*  ■   •■  ••     ' 

'' 

\  . .  :  •.••••••:?•.•: 

;>.       :-jv"  '^'/     >      OUT    OF    THE    CHATEAU 

I  FELL  asleep  in  a  short  time,  and  far  in  the  night  1...  ? 
I  was  awakened  by  a  sHght  scratching  noise,  as  if /'.v.; 
mado  by  a  cat.     There  were  no  cats  in  the  Chateau  •^.i; 
de  St.  Maur.    At  least  I  had  never  seen  nor  heard  of  •i; 
any,  and  I  sat  up  and  listened  for  the  noise  again.     I  ..•,:, 
heard  it,  and  very  distinctly,  too,  but  I  could  not  tell;-;;: 
whence  it  came.     It  seemed  to  be  all  around.     Could   v 
some  wild  animal  have  got  into  my  ror   i?    That  was  '■; ,  ; 
scarce  possible  in  the  center  of  the  city  of  Quebec.        •/.'>' 
It  was  so  dark  that  I  could  not  see  the  walls  of  V.<: 
the  room,  but  a  little  light  came  in  at  the  high  dormer  •  7; 
window.    This  light  fell  like  a  shaft  on  a  spot  in  thejc^  •> 

•^'Center  of  the  floor.     Suddenly  the  shaft  of  light  dis-^'.J.^ 
appeared,  and  then  in  a  moment  it  reappeared.    Then  •'■'■ 
it  disappeared  again.     I  looked  up  at  the  window.    It 
had  been  blotted  out,  and  now  I  was  able  to  place/;"  ;' 

.the  scratching  noise.     It  proceeded  from  the  window.  Jt!;-; 

:!;*,.:.  Some  one  was  on  the  roof  and  was  trying  to  enter^vt 

;  itiy  room  through  the  window.  '^A^ 

I  had  no  doubt  that  my  theory  was  correct  from^'i 
the  moment  it  flashed  upon  me.     Who  could  it  be? 

x  It  might  be  Savaignan  seeking  a  way  in  which  he 

icould  murder  me  for  revenge,  and  then  escape  without 

leaving  evidence  against  himself.     But  a  little  cool 

reflection  made  me  put  aside  that  guess.    It  was  too 

improbable.  ^  :'::\';-;'>::j-;v-'''^'>r;;v  ■> 

.:;■'■.;..■;■.■        224 


v^:imA^.- 


night:,:,  •; 
,  as  if.■'.^^ 
hateau  -•■f ; 
arc!  of  ••;  i; 

ain.  'iv-;,:; 
lot  tellS;:.; 
Could  iv 
at  was  -^.s 
>ec.  :---\rr-^;'f 
alls  of  :>(.-^^ 

lormef  :■;!;": 

in  the^:4^  ■; 

it  dis-:;^'.j..-^ 

Then^n; 

place/.:;- 
indow.  =^<  !:■; 

►  entei*Jx<;' 

:  from 
it  be?,  v., 
ch  he 
ithout 
t  cool 
as  too 


OUT    OF   THE   CHATEAU. 


225 


', . ' ,  I  ** ', 


I.    i,Ji:<:  ; 


•  V  .J 


'.■'•■.    •'  •  '   ••■ 


r  ';•'.-'.'  •*.-•'■• 


;.;.r.  ■. ,  .';.■';■■: r'-' 
':>!;'■<■■•''■'■'■'■"•..  - 


It  was  easy  enough  to  wait  and  see  what  would 
happen,  and  I  slipped  softly  off  my  bed  and  withdrew 
into  the  darkest  corner  of  my  room.  If  it  were  an 
assassin  I  would  give  him  as  little  chance  as  possible 
to  do  me  harm. 

A  hand's  breadth  of  light  appeared  again  at  the 

window,   and  the   scratching  became   louder.      This 

lasted  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then  the  window  was 

closed  again  entirely.     But  my  eyes  had  now  grown 

vmore  accustomed  to  the  dusk  of  the  room,  and  I  saw 

;'that  a  human  body  had  been  thrust  through  the  win- 

;.'dow.  A  pair  of  long  slender  legs  dangled  and  kicked 
about  as  if  feeling  for  a  footing.  Then  a  pair  of  shoul- 
ders followed,  and  the  figure  dropped  lightly  to  the 

•  floor,  landing  as  softly  as  if  it  were  a  cat  and  not  a 

/••man.  >•'■  ;■;  \.v-.;  :'\.'.-':'\.<---'"'^;-'--  ■'.■'■■'"  ' ■■■'  "■•  ■•■. 
■-/■:■-  The  man  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  attitude  of  one 

•/listening,  and  with  his  hand  in  his  belt,  as  if  it  clutched 

%&  weapon.    It  was  too  dark  for  me  to  see  the  face,  but 

I  was  devoured  with  curiosity  to  know  the  meaning 

:  of  this  strange  visitation  and  the  identity  of  my  visitor. 

;;       "  Lef tenant!  leftenant!     Where  are  you?     Where 

.are  you?" 

;. "     I  barely  checked  a  cry  of  amazement,  for  the  sharp 

v:/whisper  was  that  of  Zeb  Crane. 

:'  "Here  I  am,  Zeb!"  I  said,  walking  to  the  center 
■  of  the  room.    "  How  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  miracu- 

;  lous  have  you  managed  to  get  here?"     /    /^/  ■    -i-//;;  / 
:    "  Set  down  on  the  bed  there,  leftenant,"  said  Zeb 

'authoritatively;  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you."    y  ;  -  7-  'v/^^ 
-     ,  "  What  is  it?"  I  asked,  obediently  taking  my  seat. 

^^  "  Waal,  in  the  ^rst  place,"  said  Zeb  complainingly, 
"  I  want  to  say  >  ou  have  got  a  mighty  poor  window 
in  your  room  up  there.  I  think  I  took  a  splinter  with 
me  as  I  came  through,  an'  I  don't  like  it." 

"  Never  mind  the  window,"  I  said  impatiently. 


226 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


■m 


.i-'-i- 


*'  But  I  do  mind  it,"  said  Zeb,  "  an'  I  wanted  to 
speak  of  it  right  now  afore  other  things  made  me  for- 
get it.  Leftenant,  I've  crawled  through  your  window 
there  to  help  you  escape."  .  •;. 

"  Thank  you,  Zeb,"  I  replied.  "  When  shall  we 
attempt  the  escape?  "  •  - ..    ,.   ... \; 

"  This  very  minute,"  he  said.  "  We've  got  to  hurry, 
leftenant,  if  you  want  to  be  in  at  the  great  battle." 

"A  great  battle!"  I  exclaimed.  "We're  hardly 
ready  for  that  yet,  are  we?  " 

"  It  may  come  any  day,"  he  replied.  Then  he  ex- 
plained to  me  hurriedly,  but  in  more  detail  than  I  had 
been  able  to  obtain  from  Father  Michel  and  the  others, 
that  we  had  a  strong  fleet  and  army  before  Quebec 
and  a  real  commander  at  last. .:...•       :•  ,         : - 

"  We're  goin'  to  give  the  Frenchman  his  beatin'," 
said  Zeb  in  sanguine  tones.      ;  •  -^  •  v; ;.:.....,,..;-  ^  .^•-    ;,  ; 

"Zeb,"  I  said,  "we  must  escape  from  this  liouse 
immediately." 

"  That's   what   I've   been   tellin'   you,"   said    Zeb. 
"Come  on." 
'■■'■■   Zeb's  enthusiasm  had  added  to  my  desire  of  escape. 

"  Your  window  up  there  ain't  a  fine  one  or  a  big 
one,"  said  Zeb,  "  but  it'll  do.  If  you  look  close  you'll 
see  a  rope  hangin'  down.  I'll  help  you  up  it,  a.i'  then 
I'll  come  up  it  myself.    I  can  do  it  easy."     v^^:  ^x'Vv/ 

"You  are  risking  a  lot  for  me,  Zeb,"  I  said. 

Zeb's  only  reply  was  to  thrusc  a  pistol  into  my 
hand,  saying:  .  .^-v.  .c-^  ; 

"Take  this,  leftenant,  in  case  we  hav6  trouble. 
I've  got  another,  and,  besides,  my  rifle  is  layin'  on 
the  roof  out  there,  along  with  some  clothes  that's 
waitin'  for  you.    Tarnation,  what  made  that  noise?" 

The  door  of  my  room  swung  open,  and  Pierre, 
holding  a  small  lantern  in  one  hand  and  a  cocked 
pistol  in  the  other,  entered. 


OUT    OF    THE    CHATEAU. 


227 


my 


"Who  in  thunder  have  we  here?"  asked  Zeb. 

He  spoke  in  English,  but  Pierre  must  have  gue.^sed 
the  nature  of  his  inquiry,  for  he  responded  in  his  own 
language : 

"  I  look  after  monsieur  here,  who  is  our  prisoner, 
and  i  have  come  in  time  to  prevent  his  escape.  Give 
me  your  weapons  or  I  fire."  •'   •"  •■'•  ••■    ■■ 

'  •   "  Does  he  understand  our  language?"  asked  Zeb. 
;••    "  No."     .vrv-:;.^.^  ::.^€vrK^, :;;->/:•...  :•  ■•z^:^.-.-^:  '..-■:■•.■ :.  ■  • 
,  •     "  Then  the  minute  I  grab  him  you  shut  the  door, 
but  don't  make  any  noise."--       ...•,...  ,.■. 

Then  with  a  jump  which  was  more  like  the  leap 
of  a  panther  than  of  a  man  the  boy  sprang  upon  the 
old  servant.  His  action  was  of  such  suddenness  that 
Pierre  could  not  discharge  his  pistol.  Zeb  seized  his 
pistol  arm  with  one  hand  and  his  throat  with  the 
other.  I  flew  to  the  door  and  closed  it.  When  I  re- 
turned Zeb  had  crowded  Pierre  against  the  wall  and 
his  hand  was  set  like  iron  in  his  throat.  Pierre  was 
gasping  and  growing  black  in  the  face.  I  felt  pity 
for  him.-:;-';.;-:^/-  ..;■■;, ;-  _:;';/  ^y--...-^;-;  ■: ..  .•-.'■''.•/  ■'■•■.•■ 
-.;:,"Do  not  kill  him,  Zeb!"  I  exclaimed.  "He  was 
but  doing  his  duty."       -    ^  ;;     <    ^v,;:;/;'-..-,    ^  .■;;.;;• 

"  An'  I'm  doin'  mine^*'  said  the  strange i>6y-  "Bui 
don't  be  afraid,  leftenant;  I'm  not  goin'  to  murder 
him.  I'm  just  showiri'  him  a  quick  way  of  goin'  to 
sleep."  '■' ■  '■'■''•'•■  ■''■''■■■ 

He  released  his  hold  and  Pierre  slid  to  the  floor, 
where  he  lay  insensible.    ^    ::-    n:^-" -^^^.:  •  w 

"  He  ain't  hurt,  but  he  won't  come  to  for  some 
time,"  said  Zeb.  "  It  was  a  mighty  awk'ard  time  for 
him  to  be  a-comin'  in  here,  an'  since  he  come  he  had 
to  stand  what  happened.  It's  a  little  way  of  shuttin' 
oflf  a  man's  breathin'  that  I  learned  from  the  Iroquois. 
I  guess  we'd  better  tumble  him  in  the  corner." 

We  dragged  him  to  one  side,  and  then  I  grasped 


228 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


li^ 


the  rope  that  hung  from  the  window.  Zeb  gave  me  a 
strong  push,  and  in  a  moment  or  two  I  was  squeezing 
through  the  narrow  aperture.  Zeb  followed  up  the 
rope  with  the  agility  of  a  sailor,  and  presently  both 
of  us  lay  flat  on  the  roof. 

"  Keep  close,"  whispered  Zeb,  "  'cause  the  night 
ain't  so  powerful  dark  that  some  one  might  not  see 
us  on  the  roof,  and  that  would  make  a  pesky  lot  of 
trouble  for  us." 

"What  time  is  it?"  I  asked. 

"  'Bout  two  in  the  mornin',"  he  said,  "  an'  there 
ain't  many  stirrin'  besides  the  sentinels.  But  there's 
a  power  of  them,  an'  they're  watchin'  mighty  close 
now  that  the  English  are  so  nigh."  ' 

A  soldier  passed  presently,  his  arms  jingling,  but 
he  did  not  look  up  and  see  the  two  blotches  on  the 
roof  of  the  Chateau  de  St.  Maur. 

"  We  want  to  get  over  on  the  other  side,"  said 
Zeb.  "  That's  the  back  side,  an'  we  won't  be  seen 
there." 

We  climbed  over  the  comb  of  the  roof  to  the  other 
side,  which  we  found  to  face  some  outhouses  and  other 
little  buildings.  The  eaves  reached  so  near  to  the 
ground  that  we  dropped  down  without  making  any 
noise.  We  slunk  along  among  the  outbuildings,  Zeb 
carrying  his  rifle  and  the  bundle  that  had  lain  beside 
it  on  the  roof. 

"  Leftenanty  I  think  you'd  better  change  your 
clothes  now  an'  turn  Frenchman  for  awhile,"  said 
Zeb  when  we  stopped  in  the  shadow  of  one  of  the 
buildings. 

Then  I  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  Zeb's  own 
attire  was  t^t  of  a  Canadian  huntsman. 

"Do  you  talk  their  language?"  I  asked. 

"  Certain,"  he  replied,  as  he  proceeded  to  unroll 
the  bundle.    "  As  good  as  you  do,  leftenant.    I  could 


OUT    OF   THE   CHATEAU. 


229 


me  a 
;ezing 
p  the  ••■ 

boith-;: 

night  j:; 
Dt  see;* 
lot  of  ■■. 


there..!: 
here's  .,. 
close 


g,  butvl.;:.. 
3n  the.<v.  - 

"  said; ;.:,.■ 
2  seen 'v:'> 

other- 
other 
to   the  y; 

S  any^.i;^. 
s,  Zeb;:^;;:;; 
reside  :-;V 

your  :^'}- 
said 
of  the;;,  • 

s  owriify'\ 


unroll 
could 


"f 


,  >-,^... 


fool  old  Montcalm  himself.    I  haven't  been  livin'  along 
the  Canadian  border  so  long  for  nothin'." 

From  the  bundle  he  quickly  produced  a  uniform 

■  much  like  his  own.     I  divested  myself  of  my  outer 
:  clothing  and  put  it  on. 

Zeb  took  my  discarded  garments  and  cast  them 
into  one  of  the  outhouses.    "\'w«  .-''••. 
■f,     *.* There's  a  cow  in  there,"  he  said.     "  I  hear  her 
chawin'  the  cud.     Maybe  she'll  take  a  notion  to  chaw 

•up  your  old  clothes,  an'  if  she  does  she's  welcome  to 

'^..^  "■■..•■  . ...    , 

em.      ••  ,  ;-■=>•'■. r >-.,-.  »,a. /i.^?',t.--'.:  ■/-■•- -•'..  •-•  • 

..  Which'  was  a  ctirt  Way  of  disposing  61  the  sightly 
iiniform  of  which  I  had  once  been  so  proud. 
..      "  Now  you  don't  forget  what  we  are?"  said  Zeb. 
"  You  have  not  yet  informed  me  on  that  point,"  I 
said. 

V  •    "  Waal,  we're  Canadian  scouts  just  come  into  Que- 
bec, an'  we're  tryin'  to  get  out  ag'in  to  see  what  mis- 
chief the  enemy  are  plottin'.    Don't  forget,  for  we  may 
be  asked  troublesome  questions."  >Bf. .:••  .  /   ,•■;..:;. 
Vr    I  made  up  my  mind  in  case  we  were  questioned  to 
Het  Zeb  do  all  the  talking.     ...Vi...  ,  ..  X- 

We  took  a  look  at  our  weapons  to  see  that  they 

■  were  ready  for  any  emergency  that  might  arise,  and 
went  into  the  street.  Quebec  was  surrounded  by  high 
and  thick  stone  Vv^alls,  and  I  knew  that  the  only  way 
for  us  to  get  out  was  to  pass  through  one  of  the  gates. 
What  Zeb's  plan  was  I  could  not  guess.      •'-'    / 

There  seemed  to  be  more  stir  now.  Many  soldiers 
were  about.  Occasionally  ofificers  galloped  by,  their 
horses'  feet  ringing  loud  and  clear  on  the  hard  stones.; 
•  Bu.  nobody  paid  any  attention  to  us  for  some  time, 
as,  indeed,  there  was  small  cause  for  them  to  do,  since 
there  was  a  plenty  of  our  apparent  kind  in  the  city. 
I  was  strolling  along  a  bit  behind  Zeb  when  some  one 
struck  me  a  sound  blow  on  the  back. 


M^ 


l!  •• 


230 


A   SOLDIER    OF   MANHATTAN. 


I 


"  What  service  are  you  on  to-night,  comrade?  Are 
you  going  to  have  a  shot  at  the  EngHsh?"  asked  a 
hearty  voice. 

Two  French  regulars — at  least  they  wore  the  uni- 
form of  regulars — had  come  up  behind  us  and  had 
taken  this  abrupt  manner  of  accosting  us.  They  were 
somewhat  in  liquor,  and  wished  to  be  friendly. 

"  No,"  said  Zeb,  who  had  turned  around  and  who 
spoke  a  very  fair  French.  "  The  English  are  to  rest 
to-night,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned.  But  in  this  barrel 
I  carry  the  death  warrant  of  a  redcoat,  ready  for  my 
use  whenever  I  choose  to  serve  it." 

He  tapped  the  barrel  of  his  rifle  as  he  spoke.  The 
Frenchmen  laughed. 

"You  are  sharpshooters,  I  take  it?"  said  one  of 
them.  '    •  .^:^  •   •  •  -   -^  •  ■  ?••••-:/•,  '-'v.  ;•••..•  ^    /•:>'': 
'      ''Yes,"  replied  Zeb. 

"Were  you  at  Ticonderoga? "  he  asked.- 

"  Yes,"  replied  Zeb,  "  and  I  saw  the  English  go 
down  there  like  grass  before  an  autumn  fire." 

**  Alas !  I  was  not  there,"  said  the  Frenchman, 
"  and  it  is  the  regret  of  my  life.  Viable,  how  I  wish  I 
could  have  had  a  part  in  that  great  victory!  Come 
into  this  wine  cellar,  friend,  and  tell  us  about  it  while 
we  quench  our  thirst." 

A  light  twinkling  in  the  basement  of  a  stone  build- 
ing indicated  the  wine  shop  of  which  he  spoke.  Zeb 
gave  me  an  expressive  glance,  and  we  accompanied  the 
soldiers.  There  was  no  other  customer  in  the  place, 
and  mine  host,  when  he  had  filled  our  glasses,"  returned 
to  his  comfo.  cable  doze  in  the  corner. 

I  constituted  myself  the  narrator,  and  began  to  tell 
about  Ticonderoga.  As  I  had  been  there,  I  did  not 
lack  for  facts.  The  whole  terrible  scene  returned,  and 
I  found  myself  describing  it  with  a  fluency  and  force 
of  which  I  did  not  deem  myself  capable.    I  must  have 


/.- 


':   V 


OUT    OF   THE   CHATEAU. 


231 


:ea  a      .        .  ; 

5  '.. 

uni-    ,   .    .  j 

had    ■  ;    •  .' 

«4         • 

were      . 

■. 

who 

)  rest    .. 

■"•           ->•'■■. 

Darrel 

••              ■ 

r  my   •. 

•       ■ 

wi 

•'       °  '•    . 

The     •:        "■ 

.• 

ne  of    V 

'»; 

•            *•     .  t  "  •  t* 

•  *    . 

.;■  •.■•  •"•     •    • 


iman,  ,>; . 

k^ish  I    ;._,.. 

"ome  .  *;. 
while 

Duild-   ' 

Zeb 
;dthe  :-> 
place,  ;.-■ 
irned 

o  tell 
d  not 
,  and 
force  .>.' 
have 


drawn  a  vivid  picture,  for  one  of  my  auditors  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Bravo!  bravo!  If  he  fought  as  well  as  he  tells 
of  the  fight,  then  he  must  have  been  ten  times  a 
hero!" 

"  The  story  is  worthy  of  more  wine,"  said  the  sec- 
ond, and  he  immediately  ordered  the  landlord  to  fill 
up  the  glasses  again.  Both  Frenchmen  were  now  very 
much  intoxicated. 

"  We'll  slip  away  from  them  presently,"  whispered 
Zeb  to  me. 

"  When  do  you  think  the  English  will  attack  us?  " 
asked  one  of  the  Frenchmen. 

"  It  will  be  too  soon  for  them  whenever  it  may  be," 
replied  Zeb. 

"  Bravo,  comrade!  "  replied  the  Frenchman.  "That 
is  the  spirit  of  a  French  soldier! " 

The  door  of  the  wine  shop  stood  open,  and  at  that 
moment  another  man  walked  in.  I  gave  a  start  of 
surprise  and  alarm  when  I  saw  that  it  was  Savaignan. 
I  could  not  mistake  his  face,  and,  moreover,  there  was 
the  blue  and  black  spot  on  it  that  my  fist  had  made. 
I  pushed  a  little  farther  back  against  the  wall,  hoping 
he  would  not  see  me  in  the  semidarkness  there. 

He  called  'for  some  wine  and  drank  it.  Then  as  he 
turned  away  his  eyes  alighted  upon  me,  and  I  saw  the 
flash  of  recognition.  •  r  • 

"The  seigneur's  prisoner!"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Men,"  he  continued,  seizing  one  of  the  French 
soldiers  by  the  shoulder,  "  what  are  you  doing  here 
with  this  man?    He  is  an  escaped  English  prisoner." 

"  You  speak  false  words,"  exclaimed  the  soldier, 
rousing  up,  for  he  had  been  dropping  asleep.  "  He 
is  a  most  gallant  Frenchman,  and  he  was  at  Ticon- 
deroga.    He  has  just  been  telling  us  a  fine  story  about 


233 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


m. 


ffi 


"  Nonsense!  "  exclaimed  Savaignan  rou^Hly.  "  He 
is  an  English  officer,  and  he  must  be  arrested  at  once." 

"  And  I  tell  you,"  said  the  soldier  angrily,  **  that 
he  is  a  most  valorous  comrade  and  a  true  French- 
man." 

1  saw  which  way  the  wind  was  blowing,  and  made 
a  swift  resolution  to  take  advantage  of  it.  "  Com- 
rades," I  said  appealingly,  "  I  saw  this  officer  flinch 
from  the  enemy's  fire  at  Ticonderoga.  He  knows  that 
I  saw  him,  and  he  hates  me  for  it  and  would  persecute 
me.    Will  you  help  him  do  it?" 

Now  I  recognized  that  this  was  a  most  flimsy  tale, 
and  that  the  soldiers  in  ordinary  times  would  not  have 
dared  to  raise  their  hands  against  an  officer,  even  had 
the  tale  been  a  better  one.  But  I  had  not  miscalculated 
the  effects  of  their  drunkenness.  They  arose  in  a  high 
state  of  indignation  and  announced  that  I  shr  'Id  not 
be  tv'^uched,  that  they  had  known  me  all  t\  lives, 
that  we  were  born  in  the  same  village  in  France,  and 
many  other  things  to  similar  purpose  and  eflfect. 

"You  are  drunken  liars!"  said  Savaignan  scorn- 
fully. *'  This  man  is  my  prisoner,  and  he  shall  go  with 
me." 

Zeb  hitherto  had  been  sitting  in  the  corner  silent. 
At  this  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  with  an  appearance 
of  great  fury  exclaimed: 

**  What,  do  you  call  my  comrades  liars  and  drunk- 
ards?   Dog  of  an  officer,  take  that! " 

He  struck  Savaignan  such  a  smart  blow  on  the 
head  with  his  gun  barrel  that  the  Frenchman  .fell  bleed- 
ing like  a  pig  and  half  unconscious. 

"Run,  comrades,  run!"  exclaimed  Zeb,  "or  we'll 
all  be  in  the  guardhouse  soon." 

This  was  a  fate  that  the  French  soldiers  courted 
no  more  than  we,  for  they  knew  the  consequences  of 
striking  an  officer,  and  they  dashed  out  at  the  open 


I'f 


OUT    OF   THE    CHATEAU. 


233 


door,  followed  by  Zeh  and  me.  Luckily  there  was 
nobody  in  the  street,  and  when  tlie  Frenchmen  darted 
around  the  corner,  thinking  of  notliing  but  to  j^et 
t^s  far  as  possible  from  the  wine  shop,  we  turned  in 
another  direction,  and  in  a  minute  they  were  out  of 
sight. 

**  Twas  cleverly  done,"  said  Zeb  with  a  chuckle, 
"  and  that  French  officer  w  ill  have  a  pretty  sore  head 
for  nigh  on  to  a  week.  He  'peared  to  know  you,  lef- 
tenant." 

I  explained  who  Savaignan  was. 

"  Had  trouble  with  him  over  a  gal,"  said  Zeb 
tersely.  "That's  bad.  Fle'll  follow  you  an'  try  to 
find  you.  Lef tenant,  we  must  get  out  of  this  city  just 
as  quick  as  we  can." 


1 

I 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


THROUGH    THE   GATE. 


U'"\ 


We  slunk  about  the  town,  watching  in  shadows 
and  hiding  in  corners,  until  daylight  approached,  find- 
ing in  the  meanwhile  no  opportunity  to  escape.  Zeb 
said  that  only  the  Palace  gate  was  left  unbarricaded, 
and  at  last  we  decided  that  we  would  run  the  gantlet 
there,  as  it  seemed  to  be  our  only  chance.  1  regretted 
deeply  our  meeting  with  Savaignan,  t  knew  that  he 
would  recover  quickly  from  Zeb's  blow,  and  I  feared 
that  he  would  take  some  measure  to  prevent  our 
escape. 

I  felt  much  apprehension  as  we  approached  the 
gate.  ■     ■  w-v,-,- 

"It  looks  like  rashness,  Zeb,"  I  said. 

"  It  is  rashness,  leftenant,  but  we've  got  to  try  it. 
There  ain't  nothin'  else  to  do,"  he  replied. 

"  Ticonderoga  is  the  password,  you  said?  " 

"  Ticonderoga  it  is,  an'  nothm'  else.  That's  the 
reason  we've  got  to  get  out  now,  for  the  password 
will  be  changed  to-day  an'  then  we  won't  know  it." 

"  All  right,  go  on  and  I'll  take  the  chance  vv^ith 
you." 

We  were  near  the  gate.  The  sun  was  rising  high 
in  the  hervens,  flooding  the  city,  its  stone  walls,  and 
red  roofs  with  sunshine.  Soldiers  were  passing  out 
at  the  gate.  With  some  such  crowd  as  this  we  hoped 
to  pass  out  too. 

234 


THROUGH    THE    GATE. 


235 


As  we  drew  near  we  heard  the  steady  beat  of  a 
drum. 

*'  Fortune  is  with  us,"  I  exclaimed.  *'  Look,  a 
company  is  passing  out  now." 

"  So  'tis,"  repHed  Zeb.  "  It's  our  chance,  leften- 
ant.  See  the  skirmishers  hangin'  long  behind  there! 
We  must  drop  in  with  'em." 

It  was  easy  enough  to  follow  this  suggestion,  and 
in  a  few  moments  we  were  slouching  along  as  if  we 
belonged  to  the  company.  Some  of  the  skirmishers 
had  already  gone  through,  and  my  heart  was  beating 
high  at  the  prospect  of  the  easy  success  of  our  plan 
when  the  officer  in  command  at  the  gate  told  us  to 
stop.  Something  in  our  appearance,  the  difference  in 
the  set  of  our  costumes  perhaps,  aroused  his  sus- 
picions. 

Zeb  and  I  stopped,  for  we  knew  that  only  by  ready 
compliance  could  we  allay  his  doubts.    •■'••'; 

"Do  you  belong  to  this  company?"  he  asked 
sharply.         .      ■  :  :\vv.;v  •.•./* -:■ 

"  We  are  attached  to  it  as  sharpshooters,"  I  re- 
plied. 

"  You  do  not  look  like  Frenchmen,"  he  replied. 
"  Savaignan !  Savaignan !  Come  here !  "  he  called  the 
next  moment. 

I  started  violently  when  he  called  the  name  Savai- 
gnan, and  vhen  looked  at  Zeb.  He  made  no  move- 
ment, although  he  now  knew  what  the  name  Savaignan 
meant,  and  I 'imitated  his  self-command. 

Captain  Savaignan  approached,  and,  of  course, 
recognized  me  instantly.  The  fellow  knew  that  only 
the  Palace  gate  was  now  used,  and  he  must  have 
come  there  for  the  express  purpose  of  cutting  us 
oflf. 

"  Captain,"  said  the  officer,  "  here  are  two  men 
who  say  they  are  skirmishers  attached  to  the  com- 
16 


236. 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


r'i 


f, 


:i    r 


pariy  that  is  passing  out;  they  do  not  appear  to 
me  to  be  Frenchmen.  Will  you  take  a  look  at 
them?"  ■■\:-^,^^^:.-:>:'--^^^^^^ 

,  Savaignan  could  not  restrain  his  exultation. 
-  "  They  lie  when  they  say  they  are  Frenchmen,"  he 
replied.  "  This  man  is  Lieutenant  Edward  Charteris, 
an  American  officer  who  has  been  a  prisoner  at  the 
Chateau  de  St.  Maur,  and  has  escaped.  The  other  is  a 
spy,  who  should  be  shot  immediately." 

"Ah!"  said  the  officer.    "This  is  important." 

I  saw  that  we  must  brazen  it  out  in  some  manner. 

"  Monsieur  is  mistaken,"  I  said  politely.  "  I  never 
saw  him  before,  and  I  do  not  think  that  he  ever  saw 
me.  My  name  is  Jean  Duval,  and  my  comrade  here 
is  Raoul  Chapin." 

I  spoke  with  great  earnestness.  It  is  not  always 
necessary  to  tell  the  truth  to  appear  earnest.  The 
officer  seemed  to  be  impressed. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  be  mistaken,  Savai- 
gnan?" he  asked  doubtfully. 

"  Mistaken,  sacre!  I  know  the  man  as  well  as  I  do 
you,  and  I  have  been  waiting  for  him  here,"  replied 
Savaignan. 

"  Monsieur  is  deceived  by  some  facial  resemblance," 
I  replied  lightly.  "  I  hope,  sir,  you  will  permit  us  to 
join  our  company  at  once." 

'  "  These  men  should  be  arrested  immediately,"  said 
Savaignan  fiercely. 

This  remark  seemed  to  anger  the  officer.  I  sup- 
pose he  resented  Savaignan's  heat  as  an  unjust  inter- 
ference with  his  own  affair.  Besides,  he  looked  like  a 
sympathetic  fellow  who  would  not  care  to  have  any- 
body hanged  or  shot. 

"  Do  you  know  any  one  who  can  vouch  for  you?  " 
he  asked  me. 

"  None   except   the   Seigneur  of   Chateau   de   St. 


yjiiii^ 


THROUGH    THE    GATE. 


237 


>ear  to 
Dok   at 


en,"  he 

larteris, 

at  the 

her  is  a 

It." 

nanner. 
I  never 
^er  saw 
de  here 

always 

I     The 

Savai- 

as  I  do 
repHed 

)lance/* 

it  us  to 

y"  said 

I  sup- 
t  inter- 
1  Hke  a 
/e  any- 


7» 


you 


de   St. 


Maur,"  I  answered  boldly.  "  Raoul  and  I  have  lived 
upon  his  estate  in  this  province." 

It  was  a  comprehensive  lie,  and  I  felt  some  fear 
about  it  the  moment  it  was  out. 

"  Then,  if  you  know  the  seigneur  so  well,"  said 
the  officer,  **  doubtless  you  know  his  daughter,  the 
beautiful  Mile.  Louise? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  said  glibly.  "  I  have  seen  her  scores 
of  times." 

"  That  is  fortunate,"  he  said,  "  for  then  we  shall 
settle  this  matter  instantly.  It  so  happens  that  Mile, 
de  St.  Maur  herself  has  come  to  the  gate  this  morning 
to  see  the  soldiers  pass  out. — Felix,  ask  mademoiselle 
to  have  the  goodness  to  come  here." 

A  soldier  stepped  aside  and  returned  in  a  moment 
with  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  and  her  pert  little  maid 
Marie. 

"  Mile,  de  St.  Maur,"  said  the  officer,  bowing  low, 
"  here  are  two  men,  one  of  whom  Captain  Savaignan 
says  is  a  spy  and  the  other  an  American  officer,  Lieu- 
tenant Charteris,  a  prisoner  who  has  escaped  from 
your  father's  house.  Th  latter,  on  the  contrary,  says 
that  they  are  French  soldiers,  and  have  been  retainers 
of  your  father's.  Will  you  kindly  decide  this  question 
for  us?" 

A  deadly  pallor  overspread  the  face  of  Louise,  and 
she  trembled.  I  was  about  to  step  forward,  declare 
myself,  and  release  her  from  such  a  position  when  up 
spoke  the  good  little  Marie,  bless  her  soul! 

"  Know  them ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  should  think 
mademoiselle  would  know  them!  And  two  lazy 
scamps  they  are! — Jean,  you  rascal,  and  you,  too, 
Raoul,  what  are  you  doing  here?  Why  are  you  not 
out  there  fighting  the  English  like  brave  Frenchmen? 
The  seigneur  will  use  a  stick  on  you  Soth  when  he 
hears  that  you  have  been  skulking  here  in  the  city. 


n^ 


238 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


Give  me  your  gun,  Jean,  and  I'll  go  fight  if  you're 
afraid ! " 

She  delivered  these  words  with  all  the  heat  and 
fury  of  a  little  spitfire;  she  pulled  one  of  Zeb's  long 
tow  locks  smartly,  and  the  officer  laughed  loudly.  He 
had  not  noticed  Louise's  paleness. 

"  Savaignan,"  said  he,  turning  triumphantly  to  the 
captain,  "  there  is  a  medical  man  in  the  city  much 
skilled  in  the  treatment  of  the  eyesight.  I  would  ad- 
vise you  to  hold  consultation  with  him  as  soon  as  the 
opportunity  may  permit. — Pass  on,  men!" 

We  obeyed  the  command,  and  a  half  minute  later 
were  outside  of  the  walls  of  Quebec. 

"  Zeb,"  I  said,  when  we  had  gone  a  short  distance, 
"  we  probably  owe  our  lives  to  that  little  French 
maid." 

"  A  woman  is  curious,"  said  Zeb;  "  a  city  or  a  cam- 
paign is  less  to  her  than  the  luck  of  somebody  she 
likes." 

We  took  a  wide  circuit,  intending  to  reach  the 
camp  of  Wolfe,  which  Zeb  said  was  beyond  the  Mont- 
morency. 

We  had  followed  along  in  the  trail  of  the  company 
to  which  we  claimed  to  belong  until  we  were  a  fair 
measure  of  space  from  the  walls.  Then  we  began  to 
edge  away.  This  we  had  no  great  difficulty  in  doing, 
and  we  continued  the  process  with  such  success  that 
soon  we  found  ourselves  beyond  the  sight  of  the 
French  and  on  our  way  to  our  own  army.  We  walked 
swiftly  for  some  time  and  without  interruption.  Then 
Zeb  began  to  grow  suspicious,  and  he  stopped  at  in- 
tervals to  listen. 

"  Leftenant,  I  think  some  one  is  followin'  us,"  said 
he  at  last. 

"  We've  left  them  all  behind  long  ago." 

"  So  I   was  beginnin'  to  think  myself,  but  I've 


THROUGH    THE    GATE. 


239 


He 


said 


changed  my  mind  about  it.  There's  somebody  hangin' 
along  on  our  tracks  sure's  we're  both  livin'  sinners." 

I  could  hear  no  suspicious  sound,  but  the  lad's  ears 
being  more  acute  than  mine,  I  thought  he  must  be 
right.  But  we  did  not  like  to  stop.  So  we  went  on 
a  little  farther,  and  Zeb  again  said  we  were  followed. 

"  If  you'll  wait  here  a  minute,  leftenant,"  he  said, 
"  I'll  go  back  an'  see  what  it  is.  Don't  stir  while  I'm 
gone  unless  you  have  to." 

He  returned  in  five  minutes,  a  very  large  degree 
of  disgust  expressed  upon  his  face. 

"  Whatever  it  was,"  he  said,  *'  it's  been  too  smart 
for  me,  for  it's  cleared  out." 

"  Some  wandering  Canadian  peasant,"  I  said,  and 
we  resumed  our  flight. 

Zeb  calculated  that  we  would  reach  the  army  in 
about  four  more  hours.  We  were  compelled  to  make 
our  route  circuitous  in  order  to  avoid  the  French  and 
Indian  skirmishers  and  scouts.  I  asked  many  ques- 
tions of  Zeb  about  the  army,  and  it  made  me  exceeding 
glad  to  hear  that  the  men  were  in  fine  spirits  and  put 
great  confidence  in  their  general. 

We  came  presently  to  a  little  clump  of  trees  and 
sat  down  to  rest  a  bit,  for  we  had  been  on  our  feet 
many  hours,  and  were  growing  tired.  I  leaned  back 
against  the  tree,  and  before  I  had  been  there  a  half 
minute  a  rifle  cracked  in  some  adjacent  bushes  and 
a  bullet  buried  itself  in  the  tree  very  near  to  my 
head. 

"  Get  behind  a  tree!  "  shouted  Zeb,  and  in  a  minute 
both  of  us  were  burrowing  behind  trees  like  Indians. 

"  It's  the  fellow  that's  been  followin'  us,  whoever 
he  is,"  said  Zeb,  whose  tree  was  very  near  to  my  own. 
"  I  was  a  fool  not  to  hunt  longer  for  him.  Now  he's 
got  us  treed,  an'  may  keep  us  here  until  a  lot  of  the 
French  come  along  an'  take  us." 


mm 


240 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


u 


I  ■ 


il' 


s;,t'!; 


"  You  think  it  is  only  one  man?"  I  asked. 

"  Certain,"  replied  Zeb.  "  When  I  heard  the  noise 
afore,  it  sounded  like  one  man  walkin'  along,  an*,  be- 
sides, it  was  only  one  that  fired,  and  if  there  had  been 
more'n  one  they'd  all  shot  in  a  lump." 

"  If  it  is  only  one,"  I  said,  "  why  can't  we  stalk 
him?  The  trees  are  pretty  thick  here.  You  curve  to 
the  left,  I'll  curve  to  the  right,  and  we'll  come  down  on 
him  on  both  sides." 

"  Good  'nuff,"  said  Zeb.  "  You've  got  your  pistol. 
You  could  have  my  rifle,  but  I  guess  it  would  be  in 
your  way.  Don't  make  any  more  noise  than  you  can 
help." 

We  instantly  began  the  execution  of  our  plan.  I 
crept  along  the  ground  and  made  fair  speed.  I  had 
fixed  in  my  mind  the  point  whence  the  rifle  shot  came, 
and  hoped  to  surprise  our  enemy.  It  is  not  a  pleasant 
thing  to  creep  thus  upon  a  foe  who  may  turn  and  rend 
you,  but  its  necessity  was  obvious.  This  skulking 
pursuer  might  continue  to  follow  us  and  shoot  us  both 
down.    His  pursuit  must  be  stopped. 

Thus  thinking,  I  made  my  way  through  the  under- 
growth, and  when  I  came  to  a  little  knoll  and  looked 
down  the  other  side  of  it  I  saw  a  man  squatjed  in  the 
grass  behind  a  tree.  He  had  just  finished  loading  his 
rifle,  and  peeped  from  behind  the  tree  as  if  looking  for 
a  target.  I  had  no  doubt  that  I  was  the  target  for 
which  he  was  looking,  for  the  man  was  old  and  gray, 
and  none  other  than  Pierre.  I  guessed  it  at  once.  In 
some  manner  he  had  contrived  to  follow  us,  and  he 
intended  either  to  take  me  back  to  Quebec  or  stop 
my  further  flight  with  a  bullet  from  the  ancient  French 
weapon  which  he  carried.  I  could  have  shot  Pierre 
with  perfect  ease  from  where  I  sat,  and  perhaps  I 
would  have  been  justified  in  doing  so,  but  I  had  no 
stomach  for  such  an  act.     Instead  I  lay  still  and 


THROUGH    THE    GATE. 


241 


watched  him  for  a  Httle  while.  The  old  fellow  squirmed 
about  at  a  great  rate,  peeping  first  from  one  side  of 
the  tree  and  then  the  other,  thrusting  out  the  muzzle 
of  his  gun  and  then  drawing  it  back.  By  and  by  a 
look  of  perplexity  began  to  overshadow  his  face.  I 
knew  he  was  wondering  what  had  become  of  us,  and 
I  could  have  laughed  at  his  my^^tification.  Presently 
I  looked  across  and  saw  Zeb  lying  behind  a  tree  on 
the  other  side  of  him.  He  had  just  raised  his  rifle  and 
was  drawing  a  bead  on  old  Pierre  when  I  shook  my 
head  at  him  violently.  Fortunately  he  saw  me,  and, 
lowering  his  rifle,  circled  around  and  joined  me. 

"  It's  the  old  fellow  I  choked  in  your  room  last 
night,  ain't  it?  "  he  asked. 

I  nodded. 

"  An'  I  guess  he's  been  followin'  us  all  the  time 
to  bring  you  back." 

I  nodded  again. 

"  Waal,  he  may  mean  well  'nufT,"  said  Zeb,  "  but 
he  ain't  much  on  the  scout.  He  thinks  he's  cornered 
us,  an'  we've  cornered  him." 

"  Let's  see  what  he'll  do,"  I  suggested. 

"  All  right,"  replied  Zeb.  "  I  don't  mind  a  little 
fun  myself." 

Thr  ;■  fellow  began  to  grow  very  impatient.  He 
would  put  his  ear  to  the  earth  and  listen  with  great 
interest.  Then  he  would  crawl  forward  for  a  better 
view.  At  last  he  stretched  his  rifle  by  his  side,  holding 
it  with  one  hand,  and  began  to  crawl  toward  another 
tree  about  fifteen  feet  farther  on. 

"  Suppose  we  stop  him  now? "  I  said  to  Zeb. 

He  assented,  and  we  began  to  stalk  Pierre.  We 
did  it  so  successfully  that  we  came  close  up  to  him 
and  could  have  reached  out  and  touched  his  foot,  yet 
he  never  heard  us.  Zeb  put  his  rifle  down  on  the 
ground,  rose  up  on  all  fours,  and,  suddenly  springing 


242 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


iff  !  'i!;  i^ 


Wi 


through  the  air  like  a  cat,  came  down  upon  the  back 
of  Pierre. 

The  Frenchman  uttered  a  cry  and  flattened  out  on 
his  face.  Zeb  hopped  off  his  back,  took  the  rifle  from 
Pierre's  nerveless  hand,  and  stood  up.  I,  too,  rose 
to  my  feet.  Pierre  gasped  like  a  dying  deer,  and  pres- 
ently, when  his  breath  began  to  return  to  him,  sat 
up  and  began  to  look  at  us  with  surprised  eyes. 

"  Were  you  looking  for  me,  Pierre,  my  good 
man?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  was  looking  for  monsieur,"  he  replied. 

"  An'  you  have  found  him,"  added  Zeb. 

"  Pierre,"  I  said  in  an  aggrieved  tone,  "  why  do 
you  pursue  me  thus?  The  bullet  that  you  fired  at  me 
just  now  missed  me  scarce  an  inch." 

"  The  seigneur's  commands  were  that  1  should 
watch  you,"  replied  Pierre,  "  and  I  obey  the  sei- 
gneur." 

"  Then  you  have  certainly  obeyed  him,"  I  said. 
"You  have  performed  your  full  duty;  now  go  back 
to  him  and  leave  us  alone." 

"  But  my  orders  were  not  to  let  you  escape,"  said 
Pierre  obstinately 

"  But  how  ..re  you  going  to  prevent  it,  my  good 
Pierre?"  I  asked. 

He  seemed  puzzled,  and  then  repeated  like  a  ma- 
chine: * 

"  But  my  orders  from  the  seigneur  were  not  to 
let  you  escape." 

"  He  ought  to  be  a  good  soldier,"  commented  Zeb 
with  a  grin.  *'  He's  so  powerful  nartickler  about 
orders." 

"  Pierre,"  I  said,  "  you've  done  all  you  could. 
You've  followed  me  a  long  distance.  You  shot  at  me, 
and  it  is  the  fault  of  your  aim  and  not  of  your  intent 
that  I  am  not  dead.    Now  return  to  the  seigneur  and 


said, 
back 


THROUGH    THE    GATE. 


243 


tell  him  that  you  overtook  me  but  could  not  bring 
me  back." 

"  An'  tell  the  pretty  gal,  his  daughter,  that  Leften- 
ant  Charteris,  of  the  Royal  Americans,  is  well  an' 
a-doin'  well,"  put  in  Zeb. 

"Be  sileni,  Zeb!"  I  cried,  though  I  was  not  dis- 
pleased. 

"  But  what  proof  can  I  give  the  seigneur  that  I 
speak  the  truth?"  asked  Pierre  plaintively. 

"  Here,  take  my  hat,  Pierre,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  will 
take  yours.  You,  can  show  that  as  evidence  of  the 
truth  of  what  you  say  and  that  you  really  found  me." 

He  thought  a  moment  and  then  said :  • 

"  I  will  do  it,  but  monsieur  will  lose  by  the  ex- 
change; my  hat  is  but  a  poor  one." 

"  You  object  to  beatin*  him  in  a  hat  swap,"  said 
Zeb,  "  but  you  tried  mighty  hard  awhile  ago  to  put 
a  bullet  through  his  head." 

"  That  is  different,"  said  Pierre  simply. 

Then  he  put  niy  hat  on  his  head,  handed  me  his 
own,  turned  and  went  back  toward  Quebec. 

"  He's  done  the  best  he  knowed  how,"  said  Zeb  as 
we  resumed  our  flight. 

Feeling  comparatively  safe  now,  I  took  the  time  to 
ask  Zeb  how  he  had  managed  to  come  to  the  seigneur's 
house  at  such  an  opportune  moment  for  me. 

"  I  slipped  into  Quebec  yesterday  mornin',  spyin* 
for  the  general,"  he  said,  "  an'  heard  a  Canadian  say 
an  American  officer  was  a  prisoner  in  the  seigneur's 
house.  I  thought  from  his  description  that  it  might 
be  you,  and  concluded  to  see.  I  took  the  chance,  and 
found  it  was  you.  I  stole  that  dingy  old  uniform 
you're  wearin'." 

"  I  thank  you  for  taking  the  chance,  Zeb,"  I  said. 


■■!:*■■:>>'> 


5^ 


i 


]'  I 


Wf 


•■■■■^,; 


'r:^--<- 


,.:  ^ii^■;^■ 


'if/.V-.'/''^'.'-'- V'.'''- 


''  '^'^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  XXIII. 

UNDER   THE   RIGHT   FLAG   AGAIN. 

The  sun  came  out  and  the  day  grew  very  warm. 
Our  tramp  was  long,  and  I  became  weary  in  the  flesh, 
but  not  in  the  spirit.  I  was  exultant  over  my  escape, 
which  seemed  to  me  little  short  of  the  miraculous,  and 
certainly  would  have  been  impossible  without  the  aid 
of  Zeb.  The  changing  fortunes  of  the  war  also  were 
sufficient  to  encourage  a  man  who  loved  his  country. 

"  Tell  me  about  Wolfe,  Zeb,"  I  asked. 

"  He  isn't  very  fine  to  look  at,"  said  Zeb.  "  I  guess 
they  didn't  have  an  uglier  man  in  England,  but  he's 
worth  all  the  other  gener  ils  they've  sent  over  put  to- 
gether. But  he's  got  his  vvork  cut  out  for  him;  there's 
no  doubt  about  that." 

I  looked  back  at  the  spires  rising  above  the  mighty 
fortress  they  called  Quebec,  and  I  knew  that  Zeb 
spoke  the  truth.  I  had  been  there,  and  I  had  every 
right  to  know. 

Zeb  told  me  that  my  own  regiment  of  the  Royal 
Americans  was  with  Wolfe,  and  the  knowledge  that 
I  would  soon  grip  the  hands  of  my  old  comrades  again 
added  to  my  rejoicings. 

The  day  grew  hotter  as  the  sun  swung  overhead. 
Far  away  toward  the  St.  Lawrence  the  deep,  heavy 
boom  of  the  great  guns  echoed  through  the  sultry 
air. 

"  I  guess  that  comes  from  Point  Levis,"  said  Zeb. 

244 


UNDER   THE    RIGHT    FLAG    AGAIN. 


245 


"  The  general  took  it  an'  planted  there  the  batteries 
that  are  shellin'  an'  poundin'  the  city."      :■::'■■,■  .:.iy:^^i :-:-^^. 

I  trusted  that  neither  shot  nor  shell,  however  well 
aimed  at  Quebec,   would  strike  the  Chateau  de  St.  , 
Maur.     As  we  tramped  on  the  roar  of  the  guns  in-  ;: 
creased. 

"  I  guess  the  ships  are  helpin'  the  batteries,"  said 
Zeb.    "  Let  'em  fight ;  it's  enough  for  you  and  me  to 
do  just  now,  lef tenant,  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the';! 
Indians  and  the  French  skirmishers.' -"^^■'■^^" 
-     But  we  were  lucky  enough  to  escape  all  such  indi-  i- 
viduals.    We  crossed  the  Montmorency  without  trou- 
ble and  entered  the  camp  of  Wolfe,  where  I  found  my 
own  regiment,  and  was  welcomed  as  one  from  the  . 
dead.     There,  too,  I  found  Culverhouse  and  Graham  # 
and  nearly  all  my  old  friends  and  acquaintances. 

"  Where  is  Spencer?  "  I  asked  of  Culverhouse,  after 
I  had  told  my  story. 

"  Over  at  Point  Levis  with  the  batteries,"  he  re- 
plied, "  and  I  might  as  well  tell  you,  Charteris,  that 
if  he  comes  out  of  the  campaign  all  right  he  will  be- 
come your  relative." 

I  guessed  his  meaning,  but  I  asked  for  explana- 
tions. 

"  Spencer  came  suddenly  into  his  title,"  he  said, 
"  and  he  at  once  pushed  his  fortunes  with  the  pretty 
Miss  Arthur.  He  was  successful,  too,  and  they  are  to 
be  married  as  soon  as  the  campaign  closes.  It  seems 
to  be  a  fitting  match,  and  the  old  merchant,  her  father, 
is  hugely  delighted." 

"  I  shall  offer  my  heartiest  congratulations  when 
I  see  him,"  I  said. 

"  But  our  good  Mr.  Arthur  used  to  give  you  some 
evil  looks,"  said  Culverhouse.  "  He  seemed  to  think 
that  you  wished  to  be  Spencer's  rival." 

I  laughed. 


■■' .'"  ••'*  '>'t' 


»■•    V  ••     ■•■ 


-V-lv 


■^:;-V,. 


v.:  I 


i* 


I 


l»vSV., 


'  •   S' 


)f}-:\  '.■'{: 


-t   ' 


-4+- 


246 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


*'  Marion  was  my  playmate  and  almost  my  sister," 
I  said.  "Spencer  will  be  my  brother-in-law,  so  to 
speak.    I  was  never  his  rival." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  Culverhouse.  "  There's  some- 
body else  in  Quebec,  eh?" 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  Marion  is  a  very  fine  girl,  but 
I  think  I  know  a  finer." 

"  Mile.  Louise  de  St.  Maur? "  said  Culverhouse, 
bent  upon  pushing  me  to  a  declaration. 
:  ^ ''Yes,"  I  replied;  "what  have  you  to  say?" 

"  Nothing,"  said  he,  "  but  to  commend  you/  taste." 

Which  made  my  heart  warm  toward  Culverhouse. 

But  I  had  not  much  time  for  such  talk,  as  I  was 
soon  summoned  to  the  presence  of  General  Wolfe, 
whom  all  men  now  call  great,  but  who  some  then 
thought  was  mad.  It  was  with  deep  curiosity  that  I 
came  into  his  presence.  My  enthusiasm  had  caught 
fire  from  Zeb's  own,  and,  despite  Zeb's  assertion  that 
he  was  ugly,  I  expected  to  behold  one  whose  manner 
and  presence  bespoke  the  hero.  Never  was  anybody 
more  disappointed  at  first  glance  than  I.  I  stood  be- 
fore a  man  who  looked  like  some  bedridden  invalid 
more  than  a  soldier.  Thin,  awkward,  with  sparse,  red 
hair,  weak  mouth,  and  retreating  chin,  face  seemed  to 
combine  with  wasted  form  to  point  out  the  last  man 
who  should  have  been  chosen  commander  of  the  army 
besieging  Quebec.  Only  the  bright,  alert  eye  said  No 
to  their  lies,  and  I  in  talk  soon  learned  what  others 
knew  already — that  England  had  sent  over  a  re?.i  gen- 
eral at  last. 

I  soon  told  him  all  that  I  knew  about  Quebec  > 
the  nature  of  my  imprisonment  there,  and  the  manner 
of  my  escape.  But  of  real  information,  si'.ch  as  would 
serve  a  besieging  army,  I  had  little  to  give.  He  asked 
me  several  questions  about  the  Seigneur  de  St.  Maur. 

"  I  have  heard  of  him,"  he  said ;  "  he  has  served 


'■■immsmi^ 


ijitsmr^ 


UNDER    THE    RIGHT    FLAG    AGAIN. 


247 


i> 


-';.<"• 


in  the  great  wars  of  Europe,  and  he  was  one  of  Mont- 
calm's lieutenants  at  Ticondcroga.  We  will  have  to 
reckon  with  him  here." 

I  was  silent,  but  I  w:is  of  his  opinion  that  we  would 
have  to  reckon  with  the  Seigneur  de  St.  Maur. 

"  You  wish  to  rejoin  your  regiment,  do  you  not, 
and  serve  in  the  siege?"  asked  the  general. 

I  replied  that  I  had  not  thought  of  anything  else. 
He  seemed  pleased  at  my  reply,  and  sent  me  back  to 
my  regiment. 

As  I  left  the  tent  a  portly  form  approached  me, 
and  behold  I  was  staring  into  the  twinkling  eyes  of  the 
good  Mynheer  Martin  Groot. 

"  What,  mynheer,"  I  exclaimed,  "  you  here,  where 
many  a  good  blow  is  likely  to  be  exchanged?" 
•  :    He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  The  blows  will  not  fall  on  me,"  he  said.  **  I  have 
taken  care  of  myself  for  five-and-fifty  years  much  bet- 
ter than  any  one  else  would  have  taken  care  of  me, 
and  I  shall  not  forget  how,  even  under  the  walls  of 
Quebec.  Lieutenant  Charteris,  quit  this  trade  of  fight- 
ing, that  brings  you  blows,  and  join  me  in  mine,  that 
will  bring  you  gold.  Which  would  you  have,  the  blows 
or  the  gold?" 

"  Thank  you.  Mynheer  Martin,  for  the  compliment 
and  your  kindness,"  I  replied,  "  but  for  the  present  I 
will  take  my  chance  of  the  blows." 

"  The  way  of  a  young  fool,"  he  replied.  "  You 
have  been  in  a  French  prison  already,  and  you  have 
probably  got  out  just  in  time  to  have  your  head 
smashed  by  a  French  bullet." 

"  Even  as  it  is,  mynheer,"  I  replied,  "  I  would  not 
have  missed  that  French  prison."  I  was  thinking  of 
Louise. 

He  looked  puzzled,  as  he  had  a  right  to  look,  for 
how  could  he  have  understood  my  meaning? 


I 


mmr^'^ 


248 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


\^^i 


.  5; 


'  c 


"  Doubtless  it  was  better  than  the  bullet  will  be," 
he  said. 

I  waved  my  hand  to  him  and  left  him. 

The  next  day  a  detachment  of  our  company  was 
sent  over  to  Fuint  Levis  to  assist  with  the  batteries. 
We  crossed  on  one  of  the  sloops,  and  from  the  middle 
of  the  river  I  beheld  the  great  and  thrilling  panorama 
of  the  siege  and  defense  of  Quebec.  It  was  a  day  of 
dazzling  sunlight.  Over  there  between  Quebec  and 
the  Montmorency  stretched  the  long  lines  of  Mont- 
calm, a  foe  whom  no  man  could  afford  to  despise. 
With  him  were  the  victors  of  William  Henry  and 
Ticonderoga,  veterans  of  France,  sturdy  Canadian 
backwoodsmen,  and  the  Indian  warriors,  more  to  be 
dreaded  in  forest  fight  than  either.  Beyond  Montcalm 
was  Wolfe,  a  dying  general,  who  wished  to  win  this 
great  cast  before  he  fell,  and  with  him  were  the  best 
troops  of  Britain  and  our  own  enduring  Americans. 
Now  that  we  have  quarreled  mortally  and  finally,  the 
English  when  they  tell  of  the  taking  of  Quebec  say  r 
nothing  of  us,  but  we  were  there,  and  we  did  our  duty 
as  hardily  and  as  well  as  they.  Canada  is  English 
to-day,  but  it  is  due  as  much  lo  the  valor  of  the  Thir- 
teen Colonies  as  to  that  of  England.  But  enough  of 
that.    I  have  made  my  little  boast,  which  is  true. 

The  bombardment  was  proceeding  m  a  fitful  way. 
From  Point  Levis  an  occasional  shot  was  sent  on  its 
mission.  The  ships  joined  now  and  then  in  the  fire. 
The  grctit  river  took  up  the  echo  of  the  guns  and  sent 
it  far  up  and  down  the  stream.  Quv.bec,  on  its  mighty 
fortress  of  rock,  seemed  to  defy  any  and  all  enemies. 
In  the  brilliant  sunshine,  which  made  them  as  dis- 
tinct and  as  clear  as  if  they  were  within  reach  of  my  ^- 
hand,  I  could  see  the  spires  of  the  cathedral  and  the 
Uis  ".lines  and  others  I  did  not  know.  Between  the  "^ 
stone  houses  showed  strips  of  green  that  were  trees, 


i^ii  ^i. 


UNDER    THE    RIGHT    FLAG    AGAIN. 


249 


Mont- 

espise. 

y  and 

nadian 

to  be 

ntcalm 
in  this 

le  best 

ricans. 

•'  '^ 

ly,  the 

ec  say 

r  duty 

.nglish 

Thir- 

»- 

jgh  of 

1  way. 

on  its 

le  fire. 

d  sent 

nighty 

is  dis- 

of  my 
nd  the 

en  the 

" -T           '~ 

trees, 

aiid  beyond  rose  Capo  Diamond  tipped  with  fort  and 
cannon.  But  everywhere  in  Quebec  and  around  Que- 
bec were  batteries.  Whichever  way  we  looked  we 
looked  into  the  mouths  of  cannon. 

Just  over  there  beyond  that  red  roof  was  the  Cha- 
teau de  St.  Maur.  I  shuddered  to  think  of  my  dear 
girl — for  such  I  called  her  now — exposed  to  the  shot 
and  shell  of  the  fleet  and  the  batteries.  Some  in  the 
city  had  been  hit,  and  she  was  as  likely  as  any  other 
to  become  a  victim. 

We  landed  presently  on  the  island,  and  I  soon  met 
Spencer.  I  gave  him  a  hearty  handshake,  but  he 
looked  at  me  a  little  sheepishly.  I  knew  what  was 
passing  in  his  mind,  and  I  was  quick  to  disabuse 
him. 

"  Spencer,"  said  I,  *'  I  have  heard  already  that  you 
are  to  be  my  kinsman.  I  congratulate  you  most  sin- 
cerely.   There  is  not  a  finer  girl  in  all  the  colonies." 

Observe  that  I  said  "  colonies."  I  made  no  men- 
tion of  Canada. 

My  manner  was  such  that  he  could  have  no  doubt 
about  me,  and  he  seemed  relieved. 

"  Spencer,"  I  said,  "  let's  forget  all  about  that  duel 
and  be  good  friends." 

"  I'm  willing  if  you  are,"  he  said. 

"  Then  shake,"  said  I. 

We  gave  each  other  a  hearty  grip  again.  More- 
over, we  kept  our  word  and  remained  the  best  of 
friends. 

I  may  add  right  here  that  Spencer  came  out  of 
the  campaign  without  a  scratch,  and  at  this  very  dry  is 
a  most  popular  country  gentleman  in  England,  the 
model  husband  of  a  handsome  v/ife,  my  third  cousin, 
Marion  Artliur  that  was. 

I  had  but  little  to  do  on  the  Point,  and  I  spent  my 
time  in  looking  and  asking  questions  and  in  putting 


'W\.:^W 


250 


A  SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


h  ;i 


iil 


together  what  I  saw  and  heard.  I  concluded  that  I 
was  not  willing  to  exchange  my  own  place  of  lieuten- 
ant for  that  of  General  Wolfe.  I  believed  that  I  could 
do  what  I  would  be  told  to  do,  but  whether  General 
Wolfe  could  take  Quebec  was  another  matter. 

The  long  warm  day  dragged  on.  The  smoke  from 
the  great  guns  rose  in  white  clouds  and  drifted  with 
the  idle  winds.  The  ships  spread  their  sails  now  and 
then  and  moved  to  new  points  of  vantage,  but  Quebec 
on  her  rock  looked  to  me  grim,  defiant,  and  unassail- 
able. 

The  river  was  a  vast  sheet  of  murmuring  water, 
silver  and  green  here  in  the  shade  of  the  rocks,  gold 
and  blue  out  there  where  the  sunshine  fell  or  the 
clouds  were  reflected.  In  the  bright  light  the  colors 
of  Quebec's  mighty  mass  of  stone  shifted  and  changed. 
Now  there  were  creamy  seams  in  the  rugged  rock, 
which  soon  turned  to  brown  or  gray,  and  the  walls 
themselves,  catching  the  light  of  the  sun  from  new 
directions,  changed  their  tints.  The  slender  spires 
seemed  to  float  in  the  soft  sunshine. 

The  batteries  of  the  French  replied  now  and  then 
to  our  own.  A  frigate  sailed  up  toward  the  city  and 
dropped  into  it  a  broadside  from  her  twenty-four- 
pounders.  An  answering  flash  and  roar  came  from 
the  rock,  and  I  saw  a  spar  on  the  ship  fall.  A  moment 
later  a  group  of  men  gathered  on  her  deck,  as  if  some- 
body had  been  hit  and  they  were  taking  him  away. 
The  rock  seemed  to  have  the  better  of  it,  but  the  ship 
was  true  grit.  She  swung  a  little  closer  and  sent  an- 
other broadside  into  Quebec.  A  shower  of  balls  was 
hurled  at  her,  some  hitting  her,  and  then  she  drew  off 
as  if  she  had  merely  gone  out  to  give  a  challenge. 

**  That  sort  of  thing  has  been  going  on  for  days," 
said  Spencer,  "  and  it  looks  to  me  like  a  waste  of  good 
powder  and  ball.    We  don't  make  any  progress,  and 


.;J-?f*/^ 


„m>M' 


UNDER   THE   RIGHT   FLAG   AGAIN. 


251 


!  that  I 

lieuten- 

I  could 

General 

r. 

ke  from 

:ed  with 

low  and 

Quebec 

inassail- 

r  water, 
ks,  gold 
or  the 
e  colors 
:hanged. 
;d  rock, 
he  walls 
om  new 
r  spires 

ind  then 
city  and 

y-four- 
ne  from 
moment 
if  some- 
m  away. 

he  ship 
sent  an- 
alls  was 

Irew  off 

enge. 
r  days," 

of  good 
ess,  and 


the  general  is  fretting  away  what  little  life  disease  has 
left  him." 

The  next  day  I  returned  to  the  main  camp,  and 
was  assigned  to  guard  duty  on  our  side  of  the  Mont- 
morency gorge.  I  soon  discovered  that  this  was  no 
mean  service,  but  required  all  the  vigilance  and  alert- 
ness of  which  a  man  was  capable,  mingled  with  no 
small  modicum  of  courage  and  presence  of  mind. 

Between  us  and  the  French  and  their  red  allies  was 
the  vast  gorge  of  the  river.  We  beheld  mighty  preci- 
pices, their  summits  covered  with  green  and  brown 
streaked  forests,  the  stunted  birch  and  fir  clinging  for 
life  to  their  steep  sides.  Below  boiled  the  Mont- 
morency after  its  mighty  plunge,  sending  up  a  column 
of  foam  and  mist  and  spray,  now  white,  now  pale,  its 
rainbow^  arching  over  it. 

It  was  but  a  fair  rifle  shot  across  the  gulf,  and  I 
paid  good  heed  to  Zeb  Crane's  caution  not  to  ap- 
proach too  close  or  to  show  too  much  of  myself. 

"  The  French  an'  Indians  are  good  sharpshooters," 
he  said.  "  They  had  enough  practice  at  Duquesne  an* 
Ticonderoga  to  make  'em  good." 

We  clung  to  the  shelter  of  the  trees,  l^ow  and 
then  a  bullet  would  snip  up  a  bit  of  grass  and  warn  us 
not  to  put  our  rust  in  the  beauty  of  the  weather.  The 
river  roared  in  our  ears,  but  we  paid  small  attention 
to  its  roaring.  Instead  we  watched  the  green  and 
brow  woods  and  thickets  on  the  other  shore.  Since 
the  m'  norable  experience  of  Culverhouse,  Zeb  Crane, 
and  myself  with  the  Hurons — memorable  to  me,  at 
least — I  thought  I  knew  something  about  wilderness 
sharpshooting,  and  I  compressed  all  my  knowledge 
into  this:  Lie  close  to  the  earth  and  keep  a  thick  tree 
between  you  and  the  enemy. 

This  maxim  I  practiced  with  assiduity  and  zeal. 

I  caught  a  glimpse  now  and  then  of  a  Frenchman 
17 


jr.--m^i^^ 


252 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


I  ' 


in  green  or  a  red  warrior  leaping  from  one  tree  to 
another,  but  they  were  always  too  quick  for  me,  and- 1 
could  never  get  a  shot.  Once  Zeb,  who  had  crept  up  to 
a  tree  next  to  mine,  fired,  but  he  shook  his  head  doubt- 
fully, and  said  he  feared  that  his  bullet  had  gone  wrong. 
Most  of  our  men  were  New  England  rangers,  accus- 
tomed to  bush  fighting,  and  they  seemed  to  enjoy  this 
business.  One  stole  through  the  grass  quite  close  to 
the  brink,  but  he  paid  the  price  of  his  folly.  There 
was  a  dab  of  flame  in  the  opposite  woods,  the  sharp 
report  of  a  rifle,  and  presently  our  ranger  crawled 
painfully  back  to  us,  trailing  a  broken  leg  behind  him. 

Above  the  spiteful  little  spat  of  our  rifles  we  heard 
the  deep  but  distant  boom  of  the  big  guns,  reminding 
us  that  we  were  playing  but  a  minor  key  in  the  great 
war  song,  though  a  half-ounce  bullet  can  kill  one  quite 
as  dead  as  a  twenty- four-pound  cannon  ball. 

1  he  warm  afternoon  waned.  The  sunshine  with  a 
last  burst  of  splendor  to  mark  the  setting  of  the  sun 
turned  to  the  gray  of  coming  night.  The  woods  on 
the  opposite  shore  became  an  indistinct  mass,  and  the 
sharpshooters*  on  either  side  were  compelled  to  fire  at 
random  if  they  fired  at  all.  I  went  oflf  duty  then  to 
sleep  and  resume  guard  at  midnight. 


iMm- 


ree  to 
and- 1 
t  up  to 
doubt- 
vrong. 
accus- 
Dy  this 
lose  to 
There 
:  sharp 
rawled 
id  him. 
J  heard 
linding 
e  great 
le  quite 

with  a 
the  sun 
^ods  on 


nd  the 
fire  at 
hen  to 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


A  COMPROMISE. 


« 


Wake  up!  wake  up! "  said  Captain  Stearns,  tht 
chief  of  our  detachment,  as  he  gave  me  a  sound  shake. 
"  Here's  a  chance  for  active  service." 

Fifty  in  number,  we  moved  farther  up  the  river 
to  watch  for  the  French  skirmishers,  who  had  been 
active  for  days  in  an  effort  to  annoy  us  beyond  en- 
durance and  break  up  our  camp.  I  determined  to 
keep  a  good  watch,  so  far  as  my  part  was  concerned, 
since  I  had  no  mind  to  leave  my  body  in  the  forest 
fallen  in  some  petty  skirmish.  I  wished  for  Zeb,  who 
was  an  adept  at  such  business,  but  they  told  me  he 
had  gone  on  a  long  scout  behind  the  French  army. 

We  took  position  in  a  bit  of  woods  close  to  the 
river.  The  place  seemed  favorable.  We  had  the  river 
on  one  side  of  us  and  some  open  ground  on  the  other. 
Here  we  began  our  long  and  tedious  watch.  I  hate 
the  hours  between  midnight  and  day,  and  I  am  never 
awake  then  if  I  can  help  it.  But  this  time  I  could  not 
help  it,  and  I  paced  up  and  down  the  woods,  listening 
and  looking,  but  hearing  nothing  and  seeing  nothing 
of  moment. 

The  fitful  bombardment  had  ceased  for  the  night. 
Toward  Montcalm's  camp  and  the  city  all  was  quiet, 
and  our  own  army,  too,  seemed  to  be  sleeping.  I  could 
only  hear  the  plash  of  the  river  and  the  rustling  of  the 
leaves  as  the  wind  blew  through  them.  These  gentle 
noises  were  soothing,  and  they  encouraged  sleep.     I 

253 


mm 


254 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


U':! 


had  just  awakened  from  one  sound  nap  before  coming 
on  guard,  but  I  longed  for  another.  It  was  hard  to 
fight  off  sleep,  and  I  kept  stirring  that  I  might  not  be 
overcome. 

"  I  think  we've  been  sent  too  far  up,"  said  Cap- 
tain Stearns  in  a  discontented  tone  as  we  stood  to- 
gether near  the  edge  of  the  wood.  "  It's  no  use  to 
extend  the  lines  so  far." 

I  did  not  presume  to  dispute  the  words  of  my  supe- 
rior, but,  having  bad  some  experience  in  bush  war- 
fare, I  thought  him  wrong.  We  walked  up  and  down 
together,  noting  the  men,  who  seemed  wakeful  and 
alert,  We  approached  the  bank  of  the  river,  which 
at  this  point  was  not  more  than  pistol  shot  across. 
The  opposite  shore  was  densely  wooded  with  fir  and 
birch,  and  formed  an  admirable  covert  from  which 
the  French  could  have  picked  us  oflf  had  there  been 
light  enough  to  disclose  our  forms.  Studying  it  in- 
tently, I  could  not  see  the  slightest  movement  there, 
and  I  walked  back  to  Captain  Stearns,  who  had  re- 
turned already  to  the  other  edge  of  the  wood. 

We  whiled  away  the  time  in  low  talk  or  in  rounds 
of  inspection.  The  night  had  grown  very  dark,  and 
at  last  I  went  back  to  the  river  again,  though  alone. 
The  trees  on  the  other  side  were  scarce  visible.  The 
water  itself  had  turned  a  dark  lead.  In  the  silence 
and  the  darkness  its  steady  plash  had  a  louder  sound. 
I  listened  to  it  a  little  while,  and  then  I  could  have 
sworn  that  I  heard  another  plash  up  the  stream. 
Though  not  suspicious  in  itself,  it  was  a  new  sound, 
and  it  attracted  my  attention.  I  approached  the  brink 
as  closely  as  I  dared  and  listened.  I  heard  the  strange 
plash  again  and  then  again.  I  was  confident  that  it 
was  made  by  oars,  and,  looking  up  the  stream,  I 
seemed  to  see  a  dark  shadow  crossing  its  current.  It 
was  followed  quickly  by  another. 


«p 


A   COMPROMISE. 


255 


I  rushed  in  all  haste  to  Captain  Stearns  and  told 
him  what  I  had  seen  and  heard.  He  gathered  our 
force  together  hastily  and  was  not  a  minute  too  soon, 
for  the  forms  of  men  seemed  to  rise  from  the  grass 
and  a  numerous  body  of  the  French  charged  directly 
upon  us,  firing  their  muskets  and  rifles  and  shouting 
like  savages,  the  latter  to  confuse  and  frighten  us.  It 
was,  in  truth,  a  most  terrifying  moment,  the  dark- 
ness, the  half  surprise,  the  shots,  and  the  yelling  numb- 
ing our  senses  for  the  moment. 

But  it  was  only  for  the  moment.  The  captain  had 
received  a  bullet  in  his  left  shoulder,  but  he  was  a 
brave  man  and  not  without  presence  of  mind.  He 
shouted  to  his  men  to  spring  behind  the  trees,  and  I 
added  my  shouts  to  his. 

We  sheltered  ourselves  and  poured  a  volley  into 
the  advancing  French,  which  reduced  their  number 
and  caused  the  others  to  hesitate.  But  they  recovered 
presently,  and  attempted  to  rush  us  again.  This  hesi- 
tation was  their  undoing,  for  some  of  our  fastest  men 
had  reloaded  their  rifles  and  gave  them  a  second  vol- 
ley, which  turned  their  faces  in  the  other  direction. 
Evidently  they  had  expected  to  surprise  us,  and  were 
not  prepared  for  such  ready  and  effective  resistance. 

We  were  carried  away  by  our  success,  and  our  men 
in  their  enthusiasm  shouted  to  charge  the  retreating 
French.  All  of  us  took  it  up,  and  after  them  we  went 
pellmell.  They  sent  back  at  us  many  shots,  a  few  of 
which  hit,  while  most  did  not,  but  we  continued  our 
pursuit,  making  a  good  deal  of  noise  and  encouraging 
each  other  to  run  faster. 

I  singled  out  one  man  who  was  borne  away  in  the 
press  of  the  fleeing  Frenchmen,  but  who  seemed  to 
run  with  them  most  unwillingly,  for  often  he  shouted 
to  them  to  stop,  and  struck  one  with  the  flat  of  a  sword. 
I  own  that  I  was  infected  by  the  excitement  of  the 


2^6 


A  SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


i^i' 


chase,  and  I  marked  this  man  as  my  particular  game. 
One  who  did  not  care  to  keep  out  of  our  way  and  who 
was  not  willing  to  run  as  fast  as  other  Frenchmen 
ought  to  be  captured. 

Both  sides  fired  in  a  scattering  way,  but  the  num- 
ber of  shots  diminished  as  we  ran,  and  the  darkness 
and  uncertainty  of  the  ground  made  them  ineffective. 
Both  sides  spread  out,  but  I  kept  the  tall  officer  in 
view,  determined  that  he  should  not  escape  me.  The 
ground  was  very  rough,  and  I  tumbled  over  once  on 
my  hands  and  knees,  greatly  to  their  damage,  but  my 
enthusiasm  withstood  it  all.  I  was  up  again  and  in 
hot  and  zealous  pursuit  of  my  man,  who  was  endeav- 
oring to  stop  two  Frenchmen  running  by  his  side. 
But  the  two  darted  off  into  the  bushes,  and  I  saw  them 
no  more.  When  I  looked  around  for  my  comrades 
they  too  were  gone.  They  had  scattered  in  every  di- 
rection after  the  scattering  Frenchmen,  and  it  was 
easy  to  lose  sight  of  them  in  the  night.  My  own  par- 
ticular Frenchman  and  myself  held  the  field,  so  far  as 
we  were  concerned. 

Finding  himself  deserted  by  his  comrades,  he  slack- 
ened his  pace.  He  stepped  lightly  across  a  brook, 
still  holding  his  sword  in  his  hand  and  then  looking 
back  for  the  first  time  since  his  men  had  left  him,  saw 
me  in  eager  pursuit.  I  will  admit,  however,  that  my 
eagerness  had  diminished  somewhat  since  the  pur- 
suing army,  so  far  as  my  range  of  sight  was  con- 
cerned, was  reduced  to  myself.  Nevertheless  I  could 
not  in  honor  turn  back.  So,  holding  my  cocked  pistol 
in  my  hand,  I  urged  on  the  pursuit. 

He  looked  back  at  me  again,  and  then  slowed  down 
to  a  walk.  He  was  a  tall  and  large  man,  and  seemed 
to  be  very  athletic,  but  I  reasoned  that  a  loaded  pistol 
is  always  better  than  a  sword  at  the  proper  distance. 
As  he  was  walking  and  I  was  running,  I  gained  very 


A   COMPROMISE. 


257 


fast,  and  I  shouted  to  him  to  stop,  waving  my  pistol 
in  a  very  significant  manner.  Obedient  to  my  com- 
mand, he  stopped  and  took  a  seat  very  composedly  on 
a  large  bowlder. 

"  You  are  my  prisoner!  "  I  said,  rushing  up  to  him. 

"  It  might  be  possible  for  me  to  make  you  mine,"  he 
said,  "  but  I  am  willing  to  discuss  the  matter  with  you." 

The  voice  was  familiar,  and,  looking  more  clearly, 
I  recognized  the  large,  calm  features  of  the  Seigneur 
Raymond  de  St.  Maur. 

I  was  astonished,  but  not  altogether  displeased. 

"  I  was  not  expecting  to  see  you,"  he  said. 

"  Nor  I  you." 

"  But  I  am  glad  to  see  you  nevertheless." 

"  And  I  to  see  you." 

"  My  night  attack  has  failed,"  said  the  seigneur 
regretfully. 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  no  fault  of  yours,"  I  said,  feeling  in 
a  measure  sorry  for  him.    ^^  %  V  ^^ 

"  I  might  have  made  the  attack  on  some  other 
party  had  I  known  you  were  there,"  he  said  with  all 
a  Frenchman's  politeness. 

"  It  has  turned  out  very  well  as  it  is,"  I  could  r.ot 
refrain  from  replying. 

"  Do  you  still  regard  me  as  your  prisoner? "  he 
asked  with  a  smile. 

His  question  was  somewhat  perplexing.  If  my 
shot  missed  or  wounded  but  slightly,  he  could  chop 
me  into  little  pieces  with  his  long  sword.  Besides,  I 
had  no  desire  either  to  wound  the  father  of  Louise  or 
to  take  him  a  prisoner  into  our  camp. 

"  I  have  reconsidered  the  matter,"  I  said  at  last ; 
"I  do  not  claim  you."  ;  :  :?^^^^ 

"  That  is  better,"  he  said  with  another  smile,  "  be- 
cause I  was  of  another  opinion,  and  it  would  be  a  pity 
for  two  such  good  friends  as  you  and  I  to  disagree." 


""w^mpippp^p 


258 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


The  risks  of  the  encounter  certainly  looked  large, 
and  with  those  risks  I  salved  my  conscience. 

"  We  will  make  a  truce  for  the  present,"  he  said. 

I  was  willing,  and  suggested  that  it  would  be  wise 
for  him  to  recross  the  Montmorency  and  rejoin  Mont- 
calm at  once.  He  approved  of  the  suggestion,  and  we 
walked  together  toward  the  river.  I  thought  that  I 
could  protect  him  from  our  troopers  should  we  meet 
any,  while  he  could  act  in  a  similar  capacity  for  me 
should  we  meet  any  of  his. 

"  My  compliments  tq  Mile.  Louise,  your  daughter," 
I  said  as  we  walked  along. 

"  She  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  safe,"  he 
said  gravely. 

I  did  not  venture  any  further  upon  that  subject, 
and  presently  we  he  '  the  plash  of  the  waters  of  the 
Montmorency. 

"  I  think  you  have  come  far  enough  with  me," 
said  the  seigneur.  "  I  know  how  to  recross  in  ease 
and  safety,  and  in  parting  I  desire  to  say  that  I  wish 
you  the  best  luck  in  the  world.  Lieutenant  Char- 
teris." 

I  v/ished  him  the  same,  and,  shaking  hands  with 
mutual  good  will,  we  separated. 

But  as  he  left  I  put  to  him  another  question. 

"  Did  Pierre  bring  you  my  hat?"  I  asked. 

"  He  did." 

"  Was  the  proof  that  he  had  done  his  ilnty  suf- 
ficient?" 

"  It  was.  Pierre  is  a  faithful  fellow  and  devoted  "o 
France." 

Then  his  figure  disappeared  from  my  sight. 

I  returned  to  our  original  camp,  and  on  my  way 
met  Captain  Stearns,  who  was  delighted  with  our  suc- 
cess despite  his  wound,  which  was  slight.  We  had  not 
suffered  much  in  the  skirmish,  and  soon  got  our  men 


A  COMPROMISE. 


259 


large, 


together  in  the  grove,  where  we  kept  watch  until  day 
without  further  incident. 

On  the  following  afternoon,  when  I  was  on  watch 
at  the  same  post,  we  saw  some  one  appear  in  the  woods 
on  the  opposite  bank  holding  up  a  small  white  flag. 
The  figure  of  the  man  who  held  the  flag  seemed  at  the 
distance  rotund  and  unmilitary,  and  we  wondered  what 
he  wanted,  but  Captain  Stearns,  whom  a  little  wound 
could  not  keep  from  duty,  made  a  suitable  reply  to 
the  signal,  bidding  him  to  come  and  to  state  his  mes- 
sage. He  descended  the  bank  and  climbed  into  a  small 
canoe  that  had  been  hidden  in  the  bushes.  Then  I 
saw  that  the  messenger  was  my  good  and  plump 
friend  Father  Michel.  ;u  - 

The  good  man  did  not  seem  to  rush  in  any  mad 
haste  upon  his  errand.  He  paddled  slowly  and  cast 
many  uneasy  looks  upon  the  woods  that  lined  our 
side  of  the  river.  His  little  white  flag  he  had  stuck 
in  the  bow  of  his  boat,  where  it  could  not  fail  to  be 
conspicuous. 

As  I  spoke  French,  I  suggested  to  Captain  Stearns 
that  I  descend  the  chalk  cliff  and  meet  the  father.  He 
agreed,  and  I  scrambled  down.  When  Father  Michel 
saw  me  standing  ready  to  receive  him  his  round,  rosy 
face  was  illumined  with  joy. 

"I  am  happy  to  see  you.  Lieutenant  Charteris," 
he  cried.    "  I  feared  that  you  would  not  be  here." 

"  The  joy  is  mine  to  see  you,  Father  Michel,"  I 
said.  "  Nothing  but  an  errand  of  good  could  bring 
you  here." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  the  seigneur  would  call  it 
good  or  not  if  he  heard  of  it,"  he  said  doubtfully. 
"  But  are  you  sure  none  of  your  sharpshooters  are 
aiming  at  me  from  the  wood  up  there?  It  seems  to 
me  I  see  a  gun  muzzle.  Remember  that  my  profession 
is  the  Church,  and  not  arms." 


'■f^^L 


■«*• 


VT,  !l 


260 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


I II'  a 


I  assured  the  good  man  that  nobody  would  shoot 
at  him  while  he  was  under  the  protection  of  the  white 
flag,  and  he  paddled  to  shore. 

"  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  has  heard  of  the  encounter  you 
had  with  her  father/'  he  said,  "  and  she  sends  you  this 
note." 

He  handed  me  a  little  envelope,  which  I  opened  in   .  , 
haste  and  eagerness,  reading  upon  a  piece  of  paper 
this  line,  "  I  am  grateful,"  and  signed  "  Lx)uise  " — 
just  Louise,  not  a  formal  "  Louise  de  St.  Maur." 

I  was  tempted  to  kiss  it,  but  that  would  have  been 
ridiculous  in  such  a  place.  Moreover,  Steams  just  then 
came  stumbling  down  the  hillside  and  wanted  to  know 
what  was  in  the  note.  He  was  within  his  right,  and 
I  showed  it  to  him.    He  grinned. 

"  That's  a  love  letter,  Charteris,"'he  said. 

He  gave  Father  Michel  a  sly  smile,  and  the  priest 
returned  it  in  the  same  sly  fashion.    But  Stearns  waSi  *it* 
a  good  fellow.  1kr 

"  Put  it  in  your  pocket,  Charteris,"  he  said,  "  an^H^ 
we'll  say  no  more  about  your  treasonable  correspond-*  "^ 
ence  with  the  enemy." 

I  did  as  I  was  bid,  and  he  was  gentleman  enougli*c|| 
not  to  allude  to  the  letter  again.  --        '^^-'  ■'^^'■■^'mi';; 

"  I'll  go  now,"  said  Father  Michel,  "  though  I  amlj^ 
not  sure  of  the  seigneur  if  he  should  find  out  what  Ijl 
have  done." 'r^   -^ 

I  encouraged  him,  telling  him  that  the  seigneur 
would  know  nothing  about  it,  and  in  good  spirits  he 
climbed  back  into  his  canoe,  but  gave  us  a  parting    , 
injunction  to  restrain  our  sharpshooters.  ?^ 

We  watched  him  drag  himself  painfully  up  the  ^^ 
farther  cliflF  and  disappear  among  the  woods.  "" 

Good  Father  Michel,  you  were  a  brave  man  and  a 
wise  one!     '^..^^■^iy^  •  ■<-- 


■.';'«■■■•.- 


l-'ri-SI*"^ 


.^^S";;  .(,.      .'f:;,''*; 


:;  A-'.,.4i!!^.; 


■■'liit"*.' 


Id  shoot 
le  white 

Iter  you 
you  this 

)cned  in 
)f  paper    > 
uise  " — 
4r." 

ive  been 
ust  then 
:o  know 
jht,  and   if 


le  priest 
rns  was 

i,  "  and 
espond- 

enough 

^h  I  am    \ 
what  1 4Q, 


ieigneur 
)irits  he 
parting 

up  the 

n  and  a 


-.  % 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  BATTLE  OP  MONTMORENCY. 

Though  we  skirmished  somewhere  almost  daily, 
the  siege  dragged.  The  French  had  more  men  than 
we,  and  their  positions  seemed  impregnable.  Our 
only  advantage  was  in  our  ships,  some  of  which  had 
run  past  Quebec  with  but  little  damage.  The  days 
were  warm  and  long,  the  sunshine  dazzling.  From 
time  to  time  came  the  boom  of  the  great  guns,  and 
the  clouds  of  smoke  drifted  over  and  around  Quebec, 
but  the  mighty  rock  still  defied  us.  Montcalm,  pa- 
tient and  alert,  lay  in  his  strong  positions  along  the 
Beauport  shore,  and  would  not  come  out  and  fight 
us.  Some  of  the  desponding  said  the  winter  would 
come  and  force  us  to  retreat,  nothing  done.  I  feared 
that  our  failure  to  make  progress  would  add  to  the 
general's  fever,  and  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  hard*  jest 
of  fate  that  our  first  real  general  should  be  a  dying 
man.     '--^  ■ 

We  destroyed  some  of  their  fire  ships,  and  re- 
joiced a  little  over  the  success.  But  I  was  prepared  to 
settle  back  again  into  dull  waiting,  when  my  company 
was  ordered  to  get  itself  ready  for  active  service.  We 
were  then  at  Point  Levis,  and  from  the  manners  of 
the  superior  officers  I  judged  that  the  duty  was  to  be 
both  important  and  dangerous.  Culverhouse  was 
there  also.  He  shook  hands  with  me  and  his  face  was 
very  grave  when  he  said : 

a6i 


'-\M  § 


262 


A   SOLDIER    OF       ANHATTAN. 


I  ,  •    'if 


V    I 


^  , 


m 


Ni 


m 


"  I  don't  know  whether  you'll  come  back,  Char- 
teris,  and  I'll  tell  you  good-by  in  case  you  don't. 
You'll  have  hot  work  over  there,  and  my  regiment  is 
not  to  go." 

He  pointed  in  the  direction  of  the  camp  where 
Montcalm  lay  behind  his  breastworks,  so  snug  and 
so  patient.  Culverhouse  knew  that  some  sort  of  a 
general  attack  was  intended,  but  that  was  all  he  could 
tell  me.  Our  commanding  officer  himself  even  told 
me  as  much,  but  no  moie.  We  made  ready  for  em- 
barkation, as  our  part  of  the  army  could  reach  the 
enemy  by  water  only.    Then  we  waited. 

Another  clear  and  brilliant  day  had  begun.  There 
was  the  tightening  of  belts  and  the  shuffling  of  im- 
patient feet  on  the  sand.  I  put  my  hands  over  my 
eyes  to  shade  them  from  .the  glare  of  the  sun  on  the 
water.  I  eased  my  collar  and  made  myself  as  com- 
fortable as  I  could,  for  we  might  have  long  to  wait. 

But  out  in  the  river  there  was  a  beginning  already. 
A  big  sixty-four-gun  ship  and  two  smaller  vessels 
were  hovering  near  the  Montmorency  redoubt.  Pres- 
ently they  anchored,  and  across  the  river  came  a  flash 
and  roar  as  one  of  the  smaller  vessels  fired  a  broadside 
into  the  French  redoubt.  The  preliminaries  were  but 
few.  The  redoubt  replied,  and  all  three  ships  swing- 
ing at  their  anchors  poured  in  broadside  after  broad- 
side. Beyond  the  Montmorency  another  battery  of 
ours — forty  great  guns  it  had,  they  said — opened  upon 
the  flank  of  the  French  works. 

The  crash  of  so  many  cannon  made  the  most  tre- 
mendous noise  1  had  ever  heard,  and  I  had  been  at 
Ticonderoga.  Vast  clouds  of  smoke  gathered  swiftly. 
Sometimes  the  smoke  drifted  about  the  ships  and  hid 
them.  Then,  driven  by  counter  currents  of  wind,  it 
floated  and  imng  over  the  French  redoubt  and  the 
English  battery  on   shore.     Through   these  shifting 


"'■•I'^i'H  'i-':^:. 


<,  Char- 
u  don't. 
:iment  is 

p  where 
lug  and 
ort  of  a 

le  could 
ven  told 

for  em- 
sach  the 

There 
^  of  im- 
3ver  my 
1  on  the 
as  com- 

>  wait, 
already. 

vessels 
t.  Pres- 
e  a  flash 
roadside 
vere  but 

>  swing- 
r  broad- 
ttery  of 
ed  upon 

lost  tre- 
been  at 
swiftly, 
and  hid 
wind,  it 
and  the 
shifting 


'.-  V"';'.  ^> •^I'if  •  ?.  ?•"  •■•  V^  -U^  ■  ^}i^::^-':^;i:':^&' ■'■■ 


THE    BATTLE    OF    MONTMORENCY. 


263 


pillars   and   columns   came  the   blaze   of   the   great 
\,  guns. 

The  cannonading  was  so  steady  that  the  roar  of  it 
.   was  almost  unbroken.     Usually  an  artillery  fire  rises 
•  and  falls,  dropping  to  nothing  sometimes,  and  then 
.  bursting  out  with  a  crash  fit  to  split  your  ears.     But 
:  this  was  a  deep,  fierce  roar  that  turned  your  voice  to 
•:  a  whisper  and  set  everything  in  your  head  to  hum-    > 
ming.    The  clouds  of  smoke  by  and  by  drifted  down 
the  river  and  hung  over  Quebec  itself.    Others  floated 
'away  to  the  southern  shore  and  went  out  of  sight  be- 
yond the  horizon. 

I  was  standing  beside  Lieutenant  Peyton,  of  our 
Royal  Americans. 

"  Is  the  general  trying  to  batter  the  French  out 
ol  their  dens?  "  I  asked. 

"  Partly,  maybe,"  he  said,  "  but  all  that  firinj^  is 
for  another  purpose  too.  It's  to  be  the  mask  for  our 
real  attack.    You  and  I  will  see  it,  my  boy." 

The  bombardment  went  on  undiminished.     T  was 
watching  for  the  flash  of  the  guns  through  the  smoke 
when  I  noticed  the  sailors  bringing  the  long  boats  up 
to  the  beach  at  our  feet.    I  guessed  that  we  were  going 
to  attack  the  French  redoubt  at  Montmorency,  and 
so  did  all  the  soldiers,,  but  the  full  plan  was  still  a 
secret.    About  an  hour  before  noon  we  embarked  in 
the  boats  and  pulled  out  into  the  river.     We  thought 
then  that  the  time  for  action  had  come  at  last,  and       ] 
the  men  were  passing  the  word  to  each  other,  some  in    v 
solemnity  and  some  in  jest,  for  there  are  as  many   ,  ? 
ways  of  looking  at  death  as  at  life.  .■:-i--'S'' 

The  firing  kept  my  attention.  Our  approach  seemed 
to  have  no  effect  upon  it.     The  long,  unbroken  roar 
of  the  guns  continued.    The  edge  of  the  smoke  reached  •/;  '. 
out  and  surrounded  us.    The  water  glistened  like  sil- ■ ';• 
ver  scales  as  it  fell  off  the  oar  blades,  and  tV-.  steady'  '; 


I 


'  .,:  'V;  ■'.„"■  '■/. 


:/.^r■::t■ 


' .  t  .  •  • 


\r, 


-■«v 


964 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


u 


murmur  of  the  river  as  it  flowed  past  cur  boats  made 
a  quiet  song  that  ail  the  crash  of  the  cannon  could 
nut  drown.  . 

My  mind  instantly  went  back  to  Ticonqeroga, 
which  we  had  approached  in  a  way  as  deliberate.  But 
our  bands  were  not  playing  now  as  then,  and  we  were 
not  in  ubt  lest  the  French  would  fail  to  meet  us  and 
run  away.  But  our  fleet  of  boats,  filled  with  men  who 
knew  by  deed  what  war  was,  made  a  fine  and  martial 
spectacle,  and  the  French  from  the  other  shore  must 
have  admitted  it. 

We  expected  that  we  would  row  straight  for  the 
Montmorency  redoubt^  and  the  men  were  taking  last 
looks  at  the  arms  and  ammunition.  Instead  we  rowed 
toward  the  Beauport  Church,  and  then  began  to 
paddle  about  in  the  river  like  a  swarm  of  uncertain 
ducks. 

We  wondered  what  it  meant,  and  we  had  ample 
opportunity  for  wonderment,  as  noon  came  and  we 
were  still  hovering  off  the  shore.  Up  at  the  Mont- 
morency it  seemed  from  the  incessant  pounding  of  the 
artillery  that  they  were  fighting  the  battles  of  all  the 
•world,  but  we  merely  stewed  in  the  boats.  The  sun 
overhead  marked  noon,  and  his  vertical  rays  opened 
all  our  pores.  A  smell  of  hot  leather  and  sweating 
flesh  arose.  The  men  swore  softly  in  unison,  and  the 
officers  pretended  not  to  hear.  But  that  was  all. 
Around  and  around  we  swung  like  pawns  moved  by 
the  master  hand,  uncertain  upon  what  spot  to  place 
us.  It  grew  so  monotonous  that  despite  the  roar,  the 
smoke,  and  the  anxiety  I  believe  I  cov^^  have  gone  to 
sleep  in  the  boat  had  I  tried. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  our  general  was  seekir,^  to 
mislead  the  French  and  conceal  his  point  of  attack, 
but  that  was  a  hard  thing  to  do,  for  Montcalm  was  a 
wily  old  fox,  and  I  for  one  thought  we  ought  to  set 


'.,  ..s 


:'m:^-ix^:.. 


lf^PMifPi<nii'"v 


KJi 


mm 


THE    BATTLE    OF    MONTMORENCY. 


265 


boats  made 
inon  could 

conderqga, 
erate.  But 
id  we  were 
leet  us  and 
1  men  who 
ind  martial 
shore  must 

fht  for  the 

taking  last 

I  we  rowed 

began   to 

uncertain 

had  ample 
le  and  we 
the  Mont- 
ling  of  the 
of  all  the 
The  sun 
ys  opened 
I  sweating 
n,  and  the 
t  was  all. 
moved  by 
t  to  place 
i  roar,  the 
/e  gone  to 

seekir,j^  to 
of  attack, 
aim  was 
ght  to  se 


1 


about  doing  whatever  we  intended  to  do.  But  the 
afternoon  dragged  on,  seemingly  without  end,  and  we 
vvere  sfill  there  in  the  boats,  with  the  hot  sun  blister- 
in^  gbpve  iis  im  t|ie  hot  river  blistering  below  us. 
I  *•  phew!  "  said  Lieutenant  Peyton,  wiping  the  reek- 
ing sweat  off  his  brow  with  his  forefinger,  "  if  this 
lasts  much  longer,  I  shall  be  burnt  to  a  coal."  j 

'*  The  waiting  may  last,  but  not  the  sunshine,"  I 
said,  pointing  to  the  southwest,  where  I  saw  a  liftlc 
black  cloud  rising  like  a  signal. 

"  That  will  mean  rain,"  said  Peyton,  "  if  it  keeps 
on  growing,  but  I  don't  think  it  will  strike  us  before 
nightfall,  and  we  can  hardly  intend  to  wait  until  then.*' 

There  was  more  of  the  long  waiting.  The  smell  qf 
leather  and  flesh  became  a  little  stronger  and  the  curs- 
ing grew  a  little  louder.  But  the  end  of  it  came  At 
last.  Between  five  and  six  of  the  clock,  when  tlie  tjqe 
was  out,  we  rowed  swiftly  toward  the  flats  0/  mud  left 
uncovered  before  the  French  redoubt.  That  was  tj(ie 
signal  for  all  the  batteries  to  do  their  best,  anrj  alj  tht 
swearing  was  lost  in  the  noise  now.  The  sixty-four- 
gun  ship  and  its  two  smallef  comrades  opened  wji|| 
every  gun  that  would  bear.  Across  t(le  Montmorenc^ 
the  batteries  thundered,  and  from  distant  Point  Levis 
came  the  seconding  roar.  Nor  were  the  French  idle  J 
their  great  guns  were  as  h^sy  as  of|M. 
■,  Amid  the  trementjoUs  t|(}rpar  and  turmoil  hot  even 
tne  steadiest  could  withstand  excitement.  My  blood 
danced  in  my  veins  atid  pricked  me  as  if  there  were 
salt  in  it.  We  leaped  out  of  the  boats,  some  half  mir- 
ing in  the  mud,  and  others  foiling  over  other  soldiers. 
But  all  picked  themselves  up  again  or  pulled  their 
feet  froni  thp  mud  and  pushed  forward,  shouting  and 
cursing,  m  our  eagerness  we  threw  ourselves  into 
disorder,  but  as  v/e  came  out  of  the  mud  we  made 
gome  kind  of  formation  again. 


■i; 


if; 
,  ? 

:i; 

it 
ij 


^'j; 


n 


:i.>i   I'll 


i' 


,'   -.»'J 


ill' 


!s    IT' 


H]     ■: 


I 


14 

'I   'i' 


f. 


266 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


We  caught  glimpses  of  a  heavy  red  column  a  mile 
away  advancing  across  the  foot  of  the  Montmorency, 
and  we  sent  up  a  mighty  cheer  at  this  distant  sight  of 
our  brethren  coming  to  help  us.  Some  raindrops 
fell  upon  my  face,  and  were  cool  to  the  touch ;  the  skiea 
were  turning  dark,  but  I  thought  little  of  those  things, 
though  I  did  not  fail  to  remember  them. 

The  grenadiers  Were  in  front  of  us.  Suddenly  tliey 
raised  another  tremendous  shout,  and,  not  waiting  for 
orders,  rushed  upon  the  French  redoubt.  In  an  in- 
stant we  seconded  the  cry  and  rushed  with  them.  The 
French  defenders  of  the  works  fired  a  volley  at  us, 
which  made  some  holes  in  our  ranks,  but  put  no  check 
upon  our  speed.  Into  the  redoubt  we  poured  like  a 
flood,  and  the  Frenchmen,  still  firing  scattering  shots, 
abandoned  it  and  scuttled  like  hares  up  the  steep 
grassy  slopes  beyond. 

We  uttered  cheers  of  triumph  as  we  seized  the 
captured  cannon,  but  our  cheers  were  cut  short.  From 
the  heights  above  us,  and  which  in  one  brief  instant  we 
saw  were  swarming  with  the  French  army,  a  storm 
of  cannon  and  musket  balls  were  hurled  upon  us.  Far 
to  the  right  and  to  the  left  the  crest  and  upper  slopes 
burst  into  a  continuous  and  vivid  blaze. 

The  groans  and  shrieks  that  arose  from  our  ranks 
as  we  were  potted  like  grouse  was  awful,  but  it  was 
only  for  a  moment.  Then,  as  if  by  one  impulse,  we 
rushed  toward  the  slopes.  The  leaden  storm  did  not 
slacken.  The  smoke  floated  sometimes  in  our  faces, 
but  when  it  was  driven  away  by  the  flash  of  the  cannon 
and  the  rifles  we  could  see  the  French  in  their  white 
uniforms  loading  and  firing,  and  above  the  roar  we 
could  hear  them  shouting:  "Vive  le  Roi!"  "Vive 
Montcalm!"  "  Vive  notre  general!"  "  Vive  la  France!  " 

We  reached  the  slopes  and  tried  to  rush  up  thim. 
Cannon  balls,  musket  balls,  and  buckshot  beat  us 


v».-.«»  *i. 


s-^^. 


THE    BATTL&  OF    MONTMORENCY. 


267 


I  a  mile 
lorency, 
sight  of 
indrops 
he  skit* s 
:  things, 

ily  they 
ting  for 
I  an  in- 
tn.  The 
\f  at  us, 
10  check 
d  Hke  a 
g  shots, 
le   steep 

ized  the 
;.  From 
stant  we 
a  storm 
us.  Far 
r  slopes 

ir  ranks 

t  it  was 

ulse,  we 

did  not 

ir  faces, 

cannon 

ir  white 

roar  we 

"  Vive 

ranee! " 

ip  thim. 

beat  us 


back  a^ain.  Dead  bodies  rolled  down  and  tripped  us 
up.  I  remembered  groaning  and  crying  out,  "  Ticon- 
deroga  over  again !  Ticonderoga  over  again !  "  though 
I  dare  say  none  heard  me. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  great  crash  overhead,  fol- 
lowed by  a  searing  blaze.  I  looked  up  and  saw  that 
the  thunder  was  real  thunder  and  the  blaze  real  light- 
ning. The  skies  were  darkened  by  clouds  as  well  as 
smoke,  and  while  we  fought  and  screamed  on  the 
slopes  the  clouds  burst  and  torrents  of  rain  fell  upon  us. 

I  believe  that  few  in  that  moment  knew  of  the 
storm.  There  was  no  decrease  in  the  screaming,  the 
cursing,  and  the  firing.  A  terrible  steam  arose,  the 
mingled  reek  of  blood  and  muddy  water.  Streams 
of  both  flowed  down  the  slopes  and  splashed  our  boots 
with  red  or  brown.  The  grass  became  slippery  as  ice, 
and  often  we  shot  like  cannon  balls  back  down  the 
slope,  though  untouched  by  wound  or  fear.  I  thought 
I  had  reached  the  climax  of  horrors  at  Ticonderoga, 
but  the  sight  was  even  more  dreadful  here.  Over  our 
heads  the  storm  raged  and  the  t  )rrents  of  rain  pelted 
us.  From  the  slopes^  and  the  cliff  tops  the  French 
beat  us  down  with  an  unceasing  r.hower  of  lead.  Below 
we  struggled  in  the  bloody  mire,  climbed  a  little  way 
up  the  grassy  slopes,  wet  and  treacherous,  then  tum- 
bled back  again,  a  mingled  mass  of  living,  hurt,  and 
dead.  I  think  I  wept  at  the  fate  of  men  trapped  as 
I  had  seen  them  trapped  before.  At  any  rate,  I  found 
afterward  white  streaks  down  my  begrimed  face. 

The  storm  and  the  battle  seemed  to  compete,  but 
the  storm  won  at  last.  The  French  say  it  saved  us 
from  destruction;  we  say  it  saved  them  by  making 
the  grassy  slopes  as  smooth  as  ice  and  impossible  for 
us  to  climb.  But  the  torrents  of  rain  began  to  soak 
through  the  ammunition  of  both,  and  the  powder 
would  burn  and  explode  no  longer.    The  discharge  of 


.;*:...  ;..„rJ:f&" 


'■A    ■ 


■r^.-. 


268 


A    SOLDIER   OF    MANi    \TTAN. 


s>V*i 


artillery  and  rifles  died  like  a  fire  that  has  nothing  to 
feed  on.  The  trumpets  sounded  the  recall,  and,  groan- 
ing and  cursing,  we  dragged  ourselves  out  of  the 
sticky  mire  of  mud  and  blood  and  water.  The  French 
had  won  again,  and  all  the  brave  men  who  had  fallen 
had  fallen  for  nothing,  unless  to  show  that  they  were 
brave. 

The  rain,  as  if  satisfied  with  its  triumph  over  the 
powder,  ceased  to  fall.  The  clouds  disappeared.  The 
last  big  drops  of  water  glistening  on  the  grass  like 
silver  dried  up. 

We  drew  oflf,  sullen  and  still  full  of  fight,  though 
knowing  how  useless  it  was.  The  French  began  to 
shout  again  for  their  King,  their  general,  and  France, 
and  the  savages  in  their  employ  rushed  down  the 
slopes  after  scalps. 

Then  I  noticed  that  we  had  not  brought  off  all  the 
wounded;  the  brave  Peyton  was  hurt,  and  I  saw  him 
propped  upon  his  elbow  in  the  mud.  A  half  dozen 
savages  were  rtfshing  toward  him.  I  believe  they  pre- 
fer the  scalp  of  a  wounded  to  that  of  a  dead  man. 
Peyton  had  a  double-barreled  gun  in  his  hands,  and 
he  fired  one  barrel  and  then  the  other.  An  Indian 
dropped  at  eacii  shot.  But  the  poor  fellow  had  no 
more  shots,  and  the  remaining  Indians  came  on  as 
zealous  as  ever  for  scalps. 

I  ran  back  toward  Peyton,  shouting  to  my  com- 
rades to  come  also,  but  a  Highland  sergeant,  a  big 
red-haired,  bare -legged  fellow,  was  ahead  of  me.  He 
seized  Peyton  in  his  powerful  arms  and  took  him  in 
safety  ^o  the  boats,  carrying  him  and  dragging  him  a 
full  half  mile  througn  the  mud.  Other  such  incidents 
I  witnessed  on  that  day.  Even  in  battle  men  do  not 
forget  all  human  feeling. 

'  ;  )^e  retired  in  better  order  than  we  had  advanced. 
Our  ranks  were  closed  up,  and  we  kept  the  muzzles 


■""■qpi 


THE    BATTLE    OF    MONTMORENCY. 


269 


thing  to 
,  groan- 
;  of  the 
I  French 
id  fallen 
ley  were 

over  the 
id.  The 
rass  like 

,  though 

)egan  to 

France, 

own  the 

f?  all  the 
saw  him 
ilf  dozen 
hey  pre- 
lad  man. 
nds,  and 
1  Indian 
had  no 
le  on  as 

ny  com- 
it,  a  big 
me.  He 
him  in 
ig  him  a 
incidents 
n  do  not 

dvanced. 
muzzles 


o!  bur  guns  toward  the  enemy.  But  they  knew  enough 
to  stay  in  their  works  and  on  the  hilltops  and  slopes. 
Only  the  skirmishers  and  the  savages  prowled  about 
the  battlefield. 

The  Indians  kept  up  a  frightful  yelling,  and  the 
French,  too,  on  the  heights  shouted  with  might  and 
main.  The  column  which  had  come  from  beyond  the 
Montmorency  retired  toward  its  old  position.  The 
bare-legged,  striped,  and  kilted  Highlanders,  with  Gen- 
eral Wolfe  himself  among  them,  placed  themselves  in 
the  rear  of  the  retiring  body,  and  suddenly  we  heard 
a  fresh  note  amid  the  yelling  of  the  savages ;  it  was  the 
Scotch  bagpipe  screaming  defiance,  and  I  verily  be- 
lieve those  savages  to  whom  the  sound  was  new 
thought  it  was  the  war  whoop  of  the  Scotchmen,  and 
that  at  last  they  had  found  men  who  could  emit  more 
bloodcurdling  and  unearthly  shrieks  than  themselves. 

The  retiring  British  snatched  off  their  hats,  waved 
them  defiantly  at  the  French,  and  dared  them  to  come 
down  and  fight.  But  the  French  merely  continued 
to  utter  their  triumphant  shouts  and  stayed  where  they 
were.  If  the  French  had  been  as  prodigal  and  fool- 
ishly wasteful  of  their  blood  as  we  were  of  ours,  they 
would  have  been  beaten  much  earlier  in  that  war. 

We  by  the  boats  or  in  them  seconded  the  defiant 
cheer  of  our  comrades,  but  we  were  not  quite  so  hearty 
in  the  utterance  of  it.  Their  part  of  the  fight  had 
been  but  little;  it  was  we  who  had  been  torn  and 
wounded  on  the  slippery  slopes,  and,  though  we  kept 
a  line  of  bayonets  and  muskets  between  us  and  the 
skirmishers,  and  preserved  all  the  appearances  of  activ- 
ity in  the  face  of  the  enemy,  we  crept  painfully  and 
down-heartedly  into  the  boats. 

It  is  not  cheerful  to  know  that  vou  have  left  so 
many  dead  comrades  behind  you,  and  that  you  have  so 
manv   others  scarce  alive  groaning   in  pain   beside 


"■■r-f 


VA,";'"  ,;-■-;, 


270 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


you.  We  had  been  cut  up  most  frightfully,  and  noth- 
ing gained.  For  the  moment  I  feared  that  General 
Wolfe  was  like  all  the  other  generals.  Truly  the  Eng- 
lish owe  very  little  to  their  generals  and  much  to  their 
soldiers. 

The  storm  had  cooled  the  air,  but  for  a  little  while 
only.  The  hot  twilight  was  gathenng,  and  our 
wounded  men  burned  with  fever.  Many  of  us  took 
off  our  hats  and,  lifting  water  from  the  river,  poured 
it  over  them.  We  rowed  slowly  toward  the  Point  of 
Orleans,  leaving  the  Indians  shrieking  and  yelling  on 
the  beach.  When  we  had  gone  some  distance  a  war- 
rior came  down  on  a  mud  spit  as  near  as  he  could 
to  us  and  began  to  whoop  and  dance  about  as  if  mad. 
I  noticed  something  in  his  hand,  and  recognized  a 
fresh  and  bloody  scalp,  which  he  began  to  whirl  about 
as  a  taunt  to  us.  I  turned  away  my  eyes  in  repulsion 
and  horror.  Then  I  felt  something  cold  and  hard 
laid  across  my  shoulder. 

"  Sit  still,  lieutenant!  "  said  a  man  behind  me.  "  I'm 
just  using  vour  shoulder  as  a  rest,  and  I  won't  hurt 
you." 

We  had  taken  into  our  boat  a  New  England  ranger, 
a  New  Hampshire  man  named  Cook,  and  it  was  he 
who  was  speaking.  The  long,  slender  blue  barrel  of 
his  rifle  rested  upon  my  shoulder  and  projected  half 
a  yard  beyond  my  face.  I.  remained  perfectly  steady 
and  with  every  muscle  set.  The  hammer  of  the  gun 
fell,  a  jet  of  fire  leaped  from  the  muzzle,  and  then  fol- 
lowed the  sharp  report  of  the  woodsman's  rifle,  which 
has  been  compared  so  aptly  to  the  cracking  of  a  whip. 

The  warrior  fell  prone  in  the  mud  and  moved  no 
more.  It  was  the  longest  shot  I  had  ever  seen.  Cook 
took  his  rifle  from  my  shoulder  with  a  satisfied  grunt, 
and  the  men  in  the  boats  cheered. 

We  resumed  our  rowing,  and  in  the  growing  twi- 


IP 


THE    BATTLE    OF    MONTMORENCY. 


271 


id  noth- 

General 

he  Eng- 

to  their 

:le  while 
ad  our 
us  took 

poured 
Point  of 
lling  on 
i  a  war- 
le  could 

if  mad. 
[nized  a 
rl  about 
epulsion 
id  hard 

e.  "  Vm 
n't  hurt 

ranger, 
was  he 
>arrel  of 
ted  half 
r  steady 
the  gun 
hen  fol- 
;,  which 
a  whip. 
3ved  no 
.  Cook 
i  grunt, 

ing  twi- 


light unloaded  our  maimed  cargoes  at  the  Point  of 
Orleans.  As  at  Ticonderoga,  I  had  come  out  of  this 
battle  unhurt,  and  therefore  had  much  reason  to  be 
thankful,  but  I  passed  a  gloomy  night  nevertheless. 
It  seemed  as  if  after  all  our  efforts  and  frightful  losses 
the  P'rench  would  continue  to  beat  us  and  keep  us 
out  of  Quebec.  The  next  morning  I  found  that  this 
despondency  was  shared  by  all  with  whom  I  came  in 
contact,  and  I  heard  that  the  general  himself  was  in 
despair,  increased  by  his  failure  to  hear  anything  defi- 
nite from  Amherst,  who  was  to  come  by  the  way  of 
Ticonderoga  and  Lake  Champlain  with  a  1  army  to  our 
relief. 

Then  we  entered  upon  a  military  course  which  may 
have  been  necessary,  but  which  seemed  very  cruel  to 
me,  and  which  I  yet  think  of  with  shame.  We  began 
to  ravage  the  country  with  bodies  of  light  infantry, 
Highlanders,  and  rangers.  Some  of  them,  especially 
the  Highlanders,  who,  I  understand,  make  a  practice 
of  it  in  their  own  country  even  in  times  of  peace,  were 
very  expert  at  it.  All  the  cattle  were  seized,  the  coun- 
try people  were  driven  from  their  homes,  and  if  they 
resisted,  stables,  houses,  and  villages  were  burned  to 
the  ground.  Sometimes  a  church  was  not  spared.  It 
was  our  general's  object  by  destroying  the  extremities 
to  weaken  so  far  as  possible  the  heart,  which  was  Que- 
bec. It  may  have  been  good  military  policy,  but  I 
repeat  that  it  see*"ied  very  cruel  to  me.  I  witnessed 
many  pitiful  scenes  while  we  were  waging  this  war  on 
women  and  old  men  and  children,  but  the  English  and 
Scotch  often  made  a  jest  of  it.  Whatever  may  be  our 
faults  and  whatever  we  may  lack,  I  have  always  felt 
that  we  of  America  are  more  humane  than  the  Euro- 
peans, and  to  my  mind  that  is  one  of  the  greatest  of 
the  virtues. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


A   RACE   FOR  A   RESCUE. 


I 


'•>-ri. -*■*'— 


Some  days  after  our  repulse  at  Montmorency 
Zeb  Crane  hunted  me  up  on  the  Isle  of  Orleans, 
where  I  had  returned  after  an  up-the-river  expedi- 
tion. 

The  strange  boy  had  been  in  Quebec  ever  since 
the  battle.  He  seemed  to  pass  and  repass  the  gates 
with  ease,  having  found  better  ways  for  coming  out 
since  he  and  I  made  the  venture  together. 

"  The  French  are  making  a  great  noise  over  their 
victory,  leftenant,"  said  Zeb,  "  and  pretend  to  think 
this  Quebec  business  is  all  over.  Vaudreuil,  the  gov- 
ernor, has  told  his  friends  that  they  need  feel  no  more 
anxiety,  and  that  if  General  Wolfe  should  attack  again 
he'd  find  a  welcome  still  warmer  than  he  had  at  Mont- 
morency." 

"  Did  you  see  anything  of  our  friends  the  de  St. 
Maur's,  Zeb?"  I  asked. 

**  Your  friends,  you  mean,"  said  Zeb  with  a  sly 
grin. 

"  Put  it  that  way,  if  you  wish,"  I  replied. 

"  I  haven't  seen  anythin'  of  *em,"  said  Zeb,  "  but  I 
saw  a  fat  friend  of  theirs,  and  I  let  him  know  I  was  a 
friend  of  vours." 

"Father  Michel?"  I  asked. 

"  He  was  a  priest,  and  that  was  his  name,"  replied 
Zeb,  "  an'  because  I  saw  him  and  talked  with  him  is 

VJ9 


A    RACE   FOR   A    RESCUE. 


^f 


tmorency 

Orleans, 

r  expedi- 

ver  since 
the  gates 
ning  out 

)ver  their 
to  think 
the  gov- 
no  more 
ick  again 
at  Mont- 

le  de  St. 

ith  a  sly 


),  "  but  I 
J  I  was  a 


"  replied 
h  him  is 


the  reason  I've  come  to  see  you.  He  ^ave  me  this 
letter  for  you." 

He  handed  me  a  note  from  Father  Michel.  It  was 
brief,  but  it  excited  ?nd  alarmed  me.  It  said:  *'  Louise 
is  at  the  de  St.  Maur  manor  house.  Savaignan  with 
others  has  followed  her.  (jo  there  if  you  can."  The 
priest  had  wisely  left  it  unsigned. 

I  held  the  letter  in  my  hand  for  a  few  moments 
considering.  That  Savaignan  would  offer  harm  to 
Louise,  perhaps  kidnap  her,  I  did  not  doubt,  but  in 
a  very  few  minutes  I  formed  my  plan  to  rescue  her. 
I  reported  to  my  commanding  officer  that  a  party  of 
French  had  gone  to  the  de  St.  Maur  manor  house  up 
the  river,  and  showed  Zeb,  who  was  a  well-known 
scout  and  spy,  as  proof  that  my  information  was  cor- 
rect. I  asked  leave  to  take  Zeb  and  some  rangers  and 
cut  ofif  the  French.  As  this  was  directly  in  line  uith 
our  policy,  the  leave  was  granted  instantly,  and  we  set 
off  without  delay. 

I  was  able  to  procure  but  a  dozen  men  on  such 
hurried  notice,  but  I  trusted  that  they  would  prove 
sufficient.  They  were  a  good,  sound,  hardy  lot,  nine 
New  Englanders  and  three  New  Yorkers,  all  dressed 
in  green  to  match  the  foliage  of  the  forests,  though  the 
splashes  of  brown  in  the  leaves  were  now  increasing 
fast.  In  addition,  there  was  Zeb,  who  was  often  worth 
a  detachment,  and  myself,  making  fourteen  in  all.  It 
was  not  likely  that  Savaignan  had  a  large  party,  and 
I  thought  we  would  be  able  to  take  care  of  both  him 
and  his  men  if  we  arrived  in  time.  If  in  time  was  what 
alarmed  me.  But  Zeb  had  left  Quebec  with  his  letters 
only  that  morning,  and  I  was  hopeful. 

We  were  lucky  enough  to  get  passage  on  one  of 
our  ships  which  was  preparing  at  that  very  moment 
to  run  the  batteries  and  pass  beyond  the  town,  and 
with  my  little  troop  I  embarked.    I  had  seen  this  risky 


*  •■  A 


%^,    ,*■    '"    'J  f*' 


■,!'.;■,' 


i        f" 


^V. 


-■y'-X\. 


■  ■/-: 


'-*&,■ 


^:  ^'■ 


i.a^  \^% 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


i^,  ^ 


1.0 


111 


^     124 


I.I 


15 
2.2 


2.0 


1.8 


'•2-^-  li 

1.4 

ill  ''^ 

-« fe"   — 

^ 

9 


//, 


Va 


^>/%\ 


/A 


'W 


o 


/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WeST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER, N.r.  K<80 

(716)  872-4503 


a; 


V4 


A    SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


act  done  twice,  but  I  had  not  taken  part  in  it  before. 
Nevertheless,  we  sailed  past  without  any  damage  ex- 
cept some  holes  in  our  rigging,  a  smashed  spar  or 
.two,  and  one  sailor  slightly  wounded,  though  the 
French  burned  a  deal  of  powder  and  fired  many  good 
cannon  balls  into  the  uncomplaining  air. 

We  larded  above  the  town  beyond  the  French  lines, 
the  ship  going  no  farther,  and  the  rest  of  the  journey 
we  would  be  compelled  to  make  on  foot.  But  this  we 
did  not  dread,  as  men  who  are  accustomed  to  forests 
learn  to  walk  with  the  speed  and  endurance  almost  of 
horses.  Moreover,  my  men  were  well  provided  with 
zeal,  for  I  held  before  them  the  possibility  of  some 
rich  plunder,  always  a  temptation  to  rangers.  I 
thought  chat  for  the  sake  of  Louise's  safety  I  might  be 
pardoned  the  confiscation  of  a  few  articles  at  the  cha- 
teau. 

The  sun  was  setting,  but  we  pressed  on  at  speed, 
sometim.es  in  the  forests  and  sometimes  in  the  open. 
Despite  our  haste,  we  kept  a  good  watch  and  guarded 
against  surprise — a  most  useful  precaution,  for  we 
might  at  any  moment  encounter  a  band  of  French  or 
Indians.  I  had  taken  careful  note  of  the  way  when  I 
returned  from  the  manor  house  with  Father  Michel, 
and  1  recognized  several  landmarks.  So  I  felt  easy 
on  that  point,  and  our  rapid  progress  made  me  very 
hopeful. 

The  chief  of  my  rangers,  excepting  Zeb  Crane,  of 
course,  was  that  very  Ephraim  Cook,  the  New  Hamp- 
shire man,  who  had  used  my  shoulder  when  in  the  boat 
as  a  rest  for  his  rifle.  By  his  ad\'ice  and  Zeb's,  we 
stopped  just  after  dark  and  ate  heartily  of  our  rations. 
Then  we  resumed  our  journey.  The  coolness  of  the 
night  was  very  favorable  to  walking,  and  we  made 
admirable  time.  Twice  we  passed  ruined  and  deserted 
farmhouses.    So  far  as  we  could  see  in  the  moonlight 


A    RACE    FOR   A    RESCUE. 


275 


t  before, 
lage  ex- 
spar  or 
igh  the 
ly  good 

ch  lines, 
journey 
this  we 
)  forests 
[most  of 
:ed  with 
Df  some 
^ers.  I 
light  be 
the  cha- 

t  speed, 
le  open, 
guarded 
for  we 
ench  or 
when  I 
Michel, 
elt  easy 
ne  very 

rane,  of 
Hamp- 
he  boat 
:b's,  we 
rations. 
,  of  the 
2  made 
leserted 
onlight 


and  in  our  hurried  passage,  they  had  been  stripped 
clean.  Not  even  a  chicken  was  left  to  pick  worms  in 
the  c  eserted  fields. 

But  oftener  we  were  in  the  woods.  Here  we 
dropped  naturally  into  the  Indian  mode  of  walking  in 
single  file,  Zeb  or  Cook  or  myself  by  turns  leading. 
We  were  so  silent  that  we  were  like  a  procession  of 
ghosts  passing  through  the  forest,  and  we  made  but 
little  more  noise.  Shortly  after  midnight  we  stopped 
to  eat  and  rest  a  little  more,  for  in  case  of  a  skirmish 
or  other  encounter  at  the  house  we  would  need  all 
our  strength.  Then  we  resumed  our  ghostly  proces- 
sion. I  was  not  so  well  trained  to  such  business  as  the 
others,  but  I  had  more  a[  stake,  ar''.  that  fact  kept  me 
on  an  equality  of  strength  with  them. 

It  was  scarcely  possible  for  us  to  go  wrong  in  the 
night.  I  knew  the  house  was  near  the  river,  and  to 
that  we  could  always  come  back.  There  was  the  road 
along  which  Father  Michel  and  I  had  driven,  but  it 
did  not  follow  a  direct  enough  course  for  us. 

Midnight  came  and  then  the  small  hours,  which 
are  so  long.  Trees  and  rocks  assumed  the  ghostly 
quality  which  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  im- 
parts. A  sharp  chill  was  in  the  air,  but  our  vigorous 
walking  kept  us  warm.  The  daylight  was  at  hand 
when  I  saw  a  strip  of  roof  appearing  above  a  low  hill. 
I  knew  that  strip  of  roof  belonged  to  the  seigneur's 
barn,  for  I  had  noticed  it  when  Father  Michel  and  I 
came  away.  I  encouraged  my  men  with  the  news  that 
we  had  almost  reached  our  destination,  and  we  hurried 
toward  the  lower  hill.  When  we  reached  its  crest  we 
saw  the  indistinct  mass  of  the  manor  house  in  an  open- 
ing beyond.  A  thin  and  lazy  coil  of  smoke  arose,  and 
in  the  gray  light  of  the  early  dawn  the  place  appeared 
to  be  peaceful  and  sleeping.  In  a  small  inclosure  stored 
a  spotted  cow  looking  at  us  with  calm  eyes.    Nowhere 


w 


« 


276 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


was  there  a  sign  of  disturbance,  and  my  spirits  went 
away  up,  for  I  was  sure  that  we  had  arrived  in  time. 

The  manor  house  was  a  square,  massive  structure 
of  hewn  logs,  much  Hke  the  blockhouses  on  our  own 
frontier,  and,  as  I  have  noted  before,  used  in  the  be- 
ginning for  the  same  purpose.  In  those  early  days 
the  woods  had  been  cleared  away  beyond  rifle  shot  of 
the  house,  that  they  might  not  ofifer  ambush  to  ene- 
mies, but  they  had  since  grown  up  somewhat.  A  half 
doze.i  low  outhouses  were  scattered  about  in  helter- 
skelter  fashion.  We  stood  for  a  few  moments  on  the 
hill.  I  was  studying  how  I  should  reward  my  little 
army,  which  I  had  promised  plunder.  I  changed  my 
mind  about  the  latter,  and  decided  that  I  would  pay 
them  out  of  my  own  pocket,  which  was  tolerably  well 
filled  with  English  gold.  I  gave  the  word  to  advance, 
and  forward  we  went. 

We  were  winding  our  way  through  the  new  growth 
of  forest,  which  as  yet  consisted  but  of  saplings,  when 
I  jumped  almost  a  foot  high  at  the  report  of  a  rifle 
from  the  other  side  of  the  house.  A  bullet  giving 
out  its  alarming  little  hiss  passed  directly  between  Zeb 
Crane  and  me  and  imbedded  itself  with  a  spat  in  the 
trunk  of  a  sapling.  The  discharge  of  the  rifle  was 
followed  in  a  second  by  another,  and  one  of  my  men 
lost  a  nice  little  patch  from  the  shoulder  of  his  green 
coat. 

Men  trained  like  mine  know  what  to  do  in  such  a 
case,  and  in  about  five  seconds  my  army  had  whirled 
about  and  concealed  itself  in  the  most  approved  fash- 
ion in  the  woods  or  thickets.  Two  more  shots  while 
this  brief  operation  was  in  progress  hastened  our  re- 
tirement. I  saw  some  smoke  rising  from  the  woods 
on  the  other  side  of  the  cleared  ground  which  assured 
me  that  the  shots  had  come  from  that  point  and  not 
from  the  house,  as  I  had  at  first  thought.    Both  Zet) 


' '  1-1 


A    RACE    FOR    A    RESCUE* 


277 


and  Eph  were  near  me,  and  when  I  appealed  to  them 
for  an  explanation  of  this  ambush  they  agreed  with  a 
quickness  and  unanimity  that  showed  they  must  be 
fight. 

"  It's  as  simple  as  fallin'  off  a  log,"  said  Zeb. 
"  Savaignan  and  his  crowd  got  here  at  the  same  time 
we  did,  only  they  came  up  on  the  other  side  of  the 
clearin'.    They  saw  us  first,  and  plunked  away  at  us." 

These  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  facts  of  the  case,  and 
I  built  my  plans  upon  them.  After  their  sudden  volley 
the  French  were  quiet,  lying  hidden  in  their  own  patch 
of  woods.  The  smoke  from  their  shots  drifted  above 
the  treetops  and  was  dissipated  in  the  growing  light 
of  the  dawn.  We  could  not  see  a  rifle  barrel  or  the 
corner  of  a  garment.  The  French  had  concealed  thera- 
selves  with  the  address  of  the  savages  whose  acts  they 
have  learned  to  practice  so  well. 

Nobody  seemed  to  be  astir  in  the  house.  Its  in- 
mates apparently  slumbered  on,  which  could  well  be 
a  fact,  for  unless  some  one  was  on  guard  it  would  take 
the  report  of  a  little  cannon  to  penetrate  those  foot- 
thick  log  walls  and  reach  sleepy  ears.  The  roof  was 
of  red  tiles,  and  the  beams  of  the  rising  sun  struck 
upon  it,  glanced  away,  and  cast  red  splotches  on  the 
leaves  of  the  adjacent  forest.  The  lazy  coil  of  smoke 
rising  from  a  fire  left  overnight  drifted  away  with  the 
light  wind.  The  spotted  cow,  aroused  by  the  shots, 
came  down  to  the  end  of  her  lot  and  looked  through 
the  bars  with  reproachful  eyes. 

I  laid  my  plan  before  Zeb  and  Eph ;  it  was  to  enter 
the  house  as  quickly  as  possible  and  then  beat  off 
Savaignan  and  his  party. 

**  But  how  are  you  gcin'  to  get  in?"  aiked  Zeb. 
"  They're  all  sound  asleep  in  the  house.  The  door 
yonder  is  closed  and  barred.  While  we're  tryin'  to 
beat  it  in  or  to  wake  'em  up  or  before  they  can  open 


'I 


^7^ 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


:i>h 


I'l 


it  the  French  can  pick  us  oflf  as  easy  as  shootin'  at  a 
mark." 

I  was  forced  to  admit  that  Zeb  had  put  the  matter 
right.  We  would  have  to  contrive  some  method  of 
awakening  the  people  in  the  house  without  exposing 
ourselves  to  the  French  fire.  I  sent  out  three  or  four 
skirmishers  to  protect  our  own  party  from  attack  while 
we  were  deliberating,  and  then  we  three,  Zeb,  Eph, 
and  I,  set  about  our  task,  which  was  none  so  easy. 

We  thought  at  first  of  making  a  direct  attack  upon 
Savaignan,  but  in  forest  warfare  the  chief  danger  is  in 
the  offensive.  Moreover,  we  did  not  know  the  strength 
of  the  French  party.  Our  doubts  were  resolved  for  us 
by  an  untoward  event;  I  say  untoward,  but  perhaps, 
after  all,  it  was  fortunate. 

The  big  oaken  door  of  the  manor  house  was  opened 
and  a  face  and  figure  appeared.  It  was  the  face  and 
figure  of  old  Pierre,  the  seigneur's  loyal  follower.  He 
stood  there  a  few  seconds  looking  out,  and  some  one 
in  the  French  part  of  the  woods  fired  a  rifle.  It  was 
intended  that  the  bullet  should  be  Pierre's.  It  struck 
the  facing  of  the  doorway,  causing  some  splinters  to 
fly.  Pierre  was  no  fool,  and  proved  it.  He  jumped 
back  with  a  quickness  worthy  of  a  man  thirty  years 
younger,  and  we  heard  the  bang  of  the  heavy  door  as 
it  was  slammed. 

I  could  not  understand  why  the  French  had  fired  at 
Pierre,  unless  it  was  because  Savaignan  thought  the 
old  fellow  wa^  in  the  way  of  his  plans.  It  would  be 
easy  enough  for  an  unscrupulous  man  to  invent  some 
plausible  excuse  for  Pierre's  taking  ofT.  But  the  shot 
was  unfortunate  for  us,  as  Pierre  would  be  sure  to 
think  it  was  some  English  raiding  party  and  not  his 
countrymen  who  had  fired  upon  him. 

"  They'll  be  on  guard  in  the  house,"  said  Cook. 
"  It's  that  much  gained  at  least." 


A    RACE    FOR    A    RESCUE. 


279 


tin'  at  a 

I  matter 
:thod  of 
xposing 
or  four 
3k  while 
b,  Eph, 
easy, 
ck  upon 
^er  is  in 
strength 
d  for  us 
perhaps, 

;  opened 
ace  and 
^er.  He 
)me  one 
It  was 
t  struck 
nters  to 
jumped 
ty  years 
door  as 

[  fired  at 
ight  the 
ould  be 
nt  some 
the  shot 
sure  to 
not  his 

1  Cook. 


"  Perhaps  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  will  come  out  to  treat 
with  the  invaders,"  I  said.  I  had  confided  all  the 
secrets  of  the  expedition  to  Cook,  who  was  a  trusty 
man.  ' 

"  In  that  case  she'll  have  two  parties  of  inyaders 
instead  of  one  to  treat  with,  and  maybe  we  can  make 
the  better  treaty,"  said  Cook. 

This  was  true.  Our  chance  for  a  treaty  was  cer- 
tainly as  good  as  Savaignan's,  and,  if  I  knew  Louise  as 
I  thought  I  did,  perhaps  a  good  deal  better.  But  I  was 
in  great  anxiety  lest  she  should  be  exposed  to  a  shot 
intended  for  some  other.  In  five  minutes  the  door  was 
opened  again  and  Louise  herself  appeared  there.  I 
intended  to  rise  up  and  shout  a  caution  to  her,  but 
Cook  dragged  me  back. 

"Keep  still,  lieutenant!"  he  said.  "They  are 
bound  to  see  who  it  is,  and  they  won't  shoot." 

I  saw  that  he  was  right  and  remained  quiet.  Louise 
stood  in  the  doorway  gazing  at  the  woods.  I  was 
too  far  away  to  perceive  the  look  of  wonder  which 
must  have  been  on  her  face  when  she  saw  nothing 
but  the  peaceful  woods  and  the  dawn  of  a  bright 
day. 

She  stood  there  looking  about,  apparently  confident 
that  her  womanhood  would  protect  her  from  such 
shots  as  had  been  aimed  at  Pierre.  Then  I  saw  some 
one  emerge  frorri  the  French  part  of  the  woods  and 
walk  toward  her.  It  was  Savaignan.  He  ieemed  to 
trust  that  the  apparently  peaceful  nature  of  his  errand 
would  cause  us  to  withhold  our  fire.  Nor  was  the 
man  deficient  in  bravery,  as  his  coming  to  New  York 
as  a  spy  showed. 

I  took  my  resolution  at  once.  Bidding  Cook  to 
keep  the  men  quiet  and  watch  us,  I  also  sprang  up 
and  walked  toward  the  house.  Savaignan  may  have 
been  surprised  at  my  imitation  of  his  proceeding,  but 


I 


m 


280 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


i'i 


h'A  I 


mH\ 


he  kept  his  countenance.  Louise  was  bewildered,  and 
she  did  not  seek  to  conceal  it.  She  stared  at  one  and 
then  at  the  other  as  we  approached  from  opposite  di- 
rections. She  gave  me  a  warm  smile,  which,  I  believe, 
would  have  been  warmer  had  it  not  been  for  the  pres- 
ence of  Savaignan.  I  took  a  look  at  the  woods  from 
which  Savaignan  had  come,  but  could  see  nothing 
of  his  comrade.^". 

"  I  wish  you  a  happy  mornmg,  Mile,  de  St.  Maur; 
you  appear  with  the  dawn  and  are  as  bright,"  I  said  in 
the  courtliest  manner  I  could  muster.  We  talked  in  a 
rather  lofty  fashion  in  those  days.  I  had  determined 
that  I  would  act  as  if  I  were  in  a  drawing-room  as  long 
as  peace  was  preserved. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  so  gallant  and  generous  an 
enemy  as  you,  Lieutenant  Charteris,"  she  said,  smiling 
at  me  very  brightly  and  giving  me  her  hand. 

This  was  poison  to  Savaignan.  but  he  was  not 
wanting  in  readiness.  He,  too,  made  the  compliments 
of  the  morning,  and  in  a  high-flown  French  way 
likened  the  appearance  of  Mile,  de  St.  Maur  to  that 
of  the  sun  which  dimmed  all  else. 

"  Some  one  fired  at  my  servant  Pierre  as  he  opened 
the  door  and  missed  h'm  but  a  trifle,"  said  Louise. 
"  Do  you  know  who  was  guilty  of  the  crime,  Captain 
Savaignan?" 

"  Certainly,  mademoiselle,"  said  Savaignan,  with 
the  bow  of  a  courtier  and  the  face  of  the  father  of  lies. 
"  Hidden  in  the  woods  yonder  is  a  party  of  English 
robbers  come  upon  their  favorite  pursuit  of  pillage. 
When  Pierre  opened  the  door  one  of  them  fired  at 
him,  and  they  would  have  murdered  all  of  you  had  I 
not  fortunately  arrived  just  in  time.  Mademoiselle,  I 
beseech  you  to  commit  yourself  to  our  protection  at 
once." 

The  precious  scoundrel  said  it  with  a  good  face, 


A    RACE    FOR    A    RESCUE. 


281 


Ted,  and 
one  and 
fosite  di- 
;  believe, 
the  pres- 
)ds  from 
nothing 

t.  Maiir; 
I  said  in 
ked  in  a 
:ermined 
I  as  long 

roiis  an 
smiling 

was  not 

pliments 

ch   way 

to  that 

I  opened 
Louise. 
Captain 

m,  with 
r  of  lies. 
English 
pillage, 
fired  at 
u  had  I 
►iselle,  I 
ction  at 

3d  face, 


and  Louise  looked  reproachfully  at  me.     I  saw  that  I 
must  be  as  ready  as  Savaignan. 

"  Mile,  de  St.  Maur,"  I  said,  *'  I  am  sorry  to  con- 
tradict Captain  Savaignan  in  your  presence,  but  it  was 
one  of  his  men,  not  mine,  who  fired  at  Pierre,  and  it 
is  we  who  will  save  this  house  and  its  inmates  from 
pillage  and  murder.  The  Frenchmen  in  the  woods 
out  there  are  a  band  of  robbers  and  cutthroats,  not 
regular  soldiers.  Mademoiselle,  I  beseech  you  to  com- 
mit yourself  to  our  protection  at  once." 

Savaignan  glanced  at  me.  I  edged  around  a  bit, 
putting  a  corner  of  the  house  between  me  and  his 
hidden  marksmen.  But  I  do  not  think  I  was  in  much 
danger  of  a  shot.  If  any  of  the  French  had  fired  at 
me,  my  men  would  have  brought  down  Savaignan 
at  once,  and  he  knew  it,  and  his  men  knew  it  too. 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  agree  upon  an  important 
point,  gentlemen,"  said  Louise.  ' 

*'  I  am  a  Frenchman,  your  countryman,  and  your 
betrothed.  You  can  not  go,  mademoiselle,  with  the 
English,  the  enemies  of  your  father  and  yourself,"  said 
Savaignan,  putting  his  hand  upon  his  heart  in  a  man- 
ner smacking  of  the  theater. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  I  said  earnestly,  "  do  not  trust 
yourself  in  this  man's  hands.  He  is  a  villain,  and  he 
has  come  here  for  no  good  purpose." 

I  knew  that  Louise  believed  me,  but  I  saw  also  the 
reason  why  she  was  in  a  quandary.  Savaignan  was  a 
French  officer,  ostensibly  in  good  standing,  and  she 
could  not  favor  the  English  while  he  and  his  country- 
men were  present.    She  took  the  middle  course. 

"  This  is  a  peaceful  house,  occupied  by  noncom- 
batants,"  she  said,  "  and  I  will  not  admit  either  of  you. 
— Close  the  door,  Marie!  " 

I  saw  the  maid  standing  behind  her,  and  when 
Louise  stepped  back  the  quick  little  Marie  slammed 


h 


^ww 


}    !  f 


282 


A   SOLDIER   OF    MANHATTAN. 


m 


II 


i. 


pi 


•t 


,* 


I 

I* 
I  ■In' 


I  ' 


.  m 


the  door  and  throw  the  heavy  bar  into  place,  as  I  could 
very  well  hear.  But  time  enough  had  been  left  Louise 
to  give  me  a  quick  glance  of  entreaty,  which  said  as 
plain  as  speech,  "  Get  out  of  danger  at  once." 

That  I  proceeded  to  do,  recognizing  its  necessity. 

"  Good-by,  Savaignan!"  I  shouted,  and  I  skipped 
off  toward  my  own  men.  In  my  rapid  flight  I  noticed 
that  he  was  making  a  si_.iilar  retreat  toward  his  own 
quarter  of  the  wood.  One  shot  was  fired  at  n.e,  but 
a  flying  target  at  a  good  distance  is  hard  to  hit,  and  I 
reached  the  woods  in  safety.  The  shot  was  a  signal 
for  one  to  be  sent  after  Savaignan,  but  he,  too,  was 
untouched,  and  in  a  minute  previous  conditions  were 
restored — that  is,  the  house  vv^as  closed  and  locked  on 
the  noncombatants,  and  outside  English  and  French 
were  face  to  face,  each  keeping  the  other  from  his 
object. 

It  was  a  puzzling  position,  and  I  think  Solomon 
himseH  would  have  found  difficulty  in  telling  us  the 
right  thing  to  do.  I  distrusted  that  old  scamp  Pierre. 
I  feared  that  he  would  communicate  with  the  Prench 
in  some  manner  and  let  .them  into  the  house.  That 
Louise  herself  would  do  so  I  never  believed  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  It  looks  as  if  the  girl  intended  to  hold  the  house 
herself,  don't  it,  captain?  What  do  you  intend  to  do?  '* 
asked  Cook  when  I  rejoined  my  men. 

**The  French  will  lay  siege  to  the  house,"  I  said. 
"  We  must  beat  them  and  then  take  the  place." 

My  men  were'  quite  willing  to  undertake  the  job. 
War  was  their  trade  for  the  time.  Moreover,  in  com- 
mon with  all  the  remainder  of  our  army,  they  were 
smarting  under  the  defeat  at  Montmorency,  which  the 
French  rubbed  into  us  by  sending  us  insulting  mes- 
sages and  sarcastic  invitations  to  attack  again. 

Zeb  did  a  little  scouting,  and  returned  with  in- 


-h-i 


w 


A    RACE    FOR    A    RESCUE. 


283 


I  could 
Louise 
said  as 

icessity. 
skipped 
noticed 
lis  own 
rt.e,  but 
t,  and  I 
1  signal 
DO,  was 
ns  were 
:ked  on 
French 
om  his 

olomon 
us  the 
Pierre. 
Prench 
.  That 
r  a  mo- 


formation  that  the  French  were  about  as  numerous 
as  ourselves,  and  that  they  had  began  to  edge  up  as 
if  they  meant  to  attack  us.  I  suggested  that  we  move 
around  the  circuit  in  the  same  direction  and  attack 
tliem  from  the  rear,  where  we  would  most  likely  have 
the  advantage  of  a  surprise.  This  plan  commended 
itself  to  Zeb  and  Cook,  and  we  proceeded  to  put  it 
into  action. 

The  woods  formed  a  complete  circle  around  the 
house,  near  at  some  points  and  distant  at  others.  The 
trunks  were  sufficiently  numerous  and  the  foliage 
dense  enough  to  conceal  us,  and  we  stepped  with 
great  caution  to  avoid  noise.  Cook  and  two  others 
covered  our  rear,  in  order  to  keep  us  from  being  the 
overtaken  and  surprised  party.  Thus  we  proceeded, 
Zeb  Crane  leading,  myself  and  the  majority  of  the 
men  following. 

It  was  full  day  now,  the  sun  having  risen  above  the 
treetops,  and  was  very  bright.  But  it  was  a  dense 
forest.  The  seigneur  certainly  would  never  have  al- 
lowed it  to  grow  up  in  this  manner  had  he  contem- 
plated such  a  thing  as  a  siege,  of  his  house. 


e  house 
to  do?" 

I  said. 

the  job. 
in  com- 
;y  were 
lich  the 
Lg  mes- 

k^ith  in- 


19 


f 


II I   u)  II  ^1  .iin JJI4  iiippiw.^fip^qnm^^i^ipi 


m^iiimH 


t 


h'  ^ 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

MLLE.    DE   ST.    MAUR's   PREFERENCE. 

Forward  we  went,  saying  nothing  and  preserving 
our  formation.  It  was  warm  work,  stepping  on  tip- 
toe and  trying  to  look  in  three  or  four  directions  at 
once.  I  had  a  small  sword,  and  I  unbuckled  it  and 
took  it  in  my  hand  to  keep  it  from  striking  against 
the  bushes  and  mak"  ig  a  rattle  that  would  attract  the 
attention  of  the  French.  The  other  men  carried  their 
rifles  in  their  hands  ready  for  use. 

*'  Do  you  see  anything  of  them?"  I  whispered  at 
length  to  Zeb  Crane,  who  was  just  in  front  of  me. 

He  shook  his  head  and  turned  a  rather  worried 
look  upon  me. 

"  I  don't  see  'em,"  he  said,  "  but  we  ought  to. 
We've  been  comin'  pretty  fast,  an'  it's  time  to  catch 
sight  of  the  back  of  some  sneakin'  Frenchman." 

"  Push  on,"  I  said;  "we'll  see  them  soon." 

On  Zeb  went,  and  we  followed  close  after.  Pres- 
ently we  came  around  to  the  point  from  which  wc 
had  started,  but  not  a  Frenchman  did  we  see.  I  was 
perplexed.  That  Savaignan  would  withdrav/  was  in- 
credible, and  we  had  kept  near  enough  to  the  edge 
of  the  woods  to  watch  the  open  and  be  sure  they  had 
not  gone  into  any  of  the  outhouses. 

I  consulted  the  rear  as  well  as  the  head  of  the 
column,  and  found  that  Cook,  too,  had  seen  nothing. 

"  I  guess  we'll  find  'em  just  ahead  of  us,"  said  Zeb. 

284 


""IIPiiPiPMPP 


MLLE.    DE   ST.    MAUR*S    PREFERENCE. 


285 


^reserving 
ig  on  tip- 
ections  at 
led  it  and 
ig  against 
ittract  the 
rried  their 

ispered  at 
of  me. 
r  worried 

ought  to. 
i  to  catch 
lan." 
1." 

er.  Pres- 
which  wc 
26.  I  was 
w  was  in- 
the  ec\gQ 
I  they  had 

:ad  of  the 
nothing. 
'  said  Zeb. 


So  we  pushed  ahead  with  our  second  revohition 
around  tlie  manor  house  At  intervals  of  fifty  yards 
or  so  we  stopped  to  listen,  but  not  a  sound  except  the 
rustling  of  the  leaves  before  the  slight  puffs  of  wind 
came  to  us.  The  house  remained  tightly  closed,  dis- 
closing no  sign  of  life  save  for  the  smoke.  In  the 
opening  nothing  stirred  but  the  spotted  cow,  which 
seemed  to  know  just  where  we  were,  and  revolved 
around  the  lot  as  we  revolved  around  the  larger  circle 
of  the  woods,  always  keeping  her  big,  mild  eyes  fixed 
upon  our  position.  She  annoyed  me.  It  was  like  act- 
ing as  a  spy  for  the  enemy,  but  I  had  enough  to  do 
watching  for  Savaignan  and  his  men  without  trying 
to  shoo  a  spotted  cow. 

Our  second  revolution  was  complete,  and  still  no 
Savaignan.  I  began  to  believe  that  after  all  the  fellow 
had  taken  alarm  and  left  the  field  and  the  enterprise 
to  us.  But  reflection  showed  that  it  was  scarcely  cred- 
ible, for,  much  as  I  disliked  him,  I  did  not  believe  that 
Savaignan  was  a  coward. 

So  on  we  went  with  the  third  revolution,  that  con- 
founded spotted  cow  revolving  with  us  as  if  she  were 
the  hub  of  a  wheel  and  we  the  outer  rim.  This,  too, 
was  completed  without  result,  and  then  Zeb,  looking 
down  at  the  ground,  began  to  laugh. 

"Why  do  you  laugh?"  I  asked. 

**  Look  at  the  grass  and  the  leaves,"  said  Zeb. 

Even  to  my  untrained  eyes  the  trampled  grass  and 
leaves  showed  a  well-defined  trail. 

*'  It  means,"  said  Zeb,  still  laughing,  "  that  we've 
been  pursuing  them  and  they've  been  pursuing  us  at 
equal  speed,  and  that  there's  just  the  same  stretch  of 
ground  between  us  now'  that  there  was  when  we 
started.  See,  we've  been  treadin'  in  each  other's  tracks 
over  and  over  ag'in." 

Beyond  a  doubt  we  had  been  chasing  each  other 


If! 


*.  ■,. 


i 


-t 


f 


i1 


>  t      ' 


■  il 


h  It 


m 


286 


A   SOLDIER    OF   MANHATTAN. 


around  the  circle  just  as  the  Frenchman  and  I  before 
Ticondcroga  had  revolved  on  a  smaller  scale  around 
a  tree.  But  with  Savaignan  there  could  be  no  such 
peaceful  ending. 

We  stopped  a  moment  or  two  to  deliberate,  but  our 
conference  was  broken  up  by  a  shout  from  Cook  and 
the  firing  of  his  rifie.  The  French»nen  had  burst  sud- 
denly from  the  wood  and  made  a  rush  for  the  outliouse 
nearest  the  manor  building.  Cook's  shot  had  been 
too  hurried  to  do  any  damage,  and  all  the  Frenchmen 
leached  the  stout  log  structure  in  safety. 

"  That's  what  I  call  a  flank  movement,  and  it 
wasn't  fair,"  said  Zeb  in  an  aggrieved  tone. 

The  stable  was  now  as  silent  as  the  house.  The 
F*"enchmen  were  fortified  against  us,  but  I  could  not 
stc  that  they  had  gained  any  great  advantage.  From 
the  shelter  of  the  stable  they  could  keep  us  away  from 
the  house  so  long  as  the  day  lasted,  but  that  was  all. 
We  might  besiege  ih^m  in  their  fort,  and,  by  cutting 
them  ofT  from  food  and  \\a*er,  compel  them  to  sur- 
render without  great  risk  to  ourselves. 

Or  the  whole,  I  was  not  dissatisfied  with  the  situa- 
tion. 

I  conferred  v;ith  my  lieutenants,  Zeb  and  Cook, 
and  we  detailed  six  men  as  sharpshooters  to  cover  all 
the  sides  of  the  stable.  I  had  thought  it  possible  to 
approach  the  house  from  the  side  opposite  tlie  stable, 
making  the  house  itself  serve  as  our  shelter,  but  a 
little  investigation  showed  that  the  pljn  would  not  do. 
The  stable  was  a  long  building,  and  a  rifleman  at  one 
end  or  the  other  could  reach  us  when  we  came  within 
a  certain  distance.  The  plan  must  be  abandoned,  the 
risks  being  too  great,  for  these  Frenchmen,  who  live 
the  warlike  life  of  the  woods,  become  expert  marks- 
men. 

They  appeared  to  be  taking  matters  philosophically 


♦t. 


MLLE.    D^;    ST.    MAUR  S    PREFERENCE. 


287 


I  before 
J  around 
no  such 

,  but  our 
!ook  and 
iiret  sud- 
out  house 
lad  been 
enchmen 

and   it 

ise.  T'ne 
:ould  not 
;.  P>om 
vav  from 
:  was  all. 
y  cutting 
1  to  sur- 

the  situa- 

id  Cook, 
cover  all 
)ssible  to 
lie  stable, 
ir,  but  a 
d  not  do. 
in  at  one 
ne  within 
oned,  the 
who  live 
t  niarks- 

ophically 


in  the  house.  The  volume  of  sniokfi  from  the  stone 
chimney  increased  as  if  Marie  were  cooking  a  sub- 
stantial breakfast  for  Louise,  Pierre,  and  whomsoever 
else  might  be  inside,  if  anybody.  It  was  a  well-pro- 
vided house,  as  I  knew  from  my  own  earlier  occupancy, 
and  I  judged  that  they  would  lack  nothing  but  fresh 
air,  which  one  can  dispense  with  for  a  short  time  in  a 
pinch. 

Another  conference  resulted  in  a  determination  to 
wait  until  night  for  active  operations.  We  kept  our 
six  guards  on  the  stable  while  the  rest  of  us  sought 
out  the  most  comfortpble  spot  in  the  woods  beyond 
the  range  of  our  enemies  and  waited.  It  was  dreary 
work.  Waiting  always  is.  The  sun  ascended  toward 
the  center  of  the  heavens,  and  the  close  heat  accumu- 
lated, thick  and  stifling,  under  the  boughs.  One 
speaks  of  the  cool  shade  of  the  forest,  but  a  dense 
forest  often  serves  merely  to  hold  the  heat  and  keep 
the  cool  breezes  away  until  it  becomes  like  a  stove. 

I  leaned  against  a  log  and  at  intervals  wiped  the 
sweat  from  my  face.  I  would  have  preferred  action, 
but  I  knew  its  great  risks  v;hile  the  daylight  lasted. 
W^e  ate  some  dinner  out  of  ihe  supply  we  had  broi!ght 
with  us,  and  then  resumed  the  old  task  of  waiting. 
House  and  stable  were  as  still  as  the  dead.  Evidentlv 
.Savaignan,  too,  was  content  to  wait,  and  Louise  had 
no  choice  but  to  do  so  whether  content  or  not.  The 
long  afternoon  shortened,  minute  by  minute,  though 
they  were  clipped  off  the  hours  very  slowly. 

The  slow  minutes  turned  into  slow  hours,  but  even 
the  last  in  time  exhausted  themselves.  The  edge  of 
the  sun  reached  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  then  we 
beheld  the  advancing  twilight.  Night  soon  came,  and 
woods,  manor  house,  and  stable  were  in  darkness. 
It  was  time  to  carry  out  my  plan,  and  wc  set  about 
it.    Leaving  Cook  in  command  of  the  men,  Zeb  and 


288 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


♦      ! 


I  slipped  into  the  open  ground  toward  the  house,  I 
thought  that  while  the  French  were  watching  for  an 
attack  from  us  we  might  arrange  to  enter  the  house 
unobserved  under  cover  of  the  darkness  and  take 
away  the  girls,  leaving  the  matter  of  a  fight  with  the 
French  to  be  disposed  of  afterward. 

Zeb  and  I  advanced  with  the  caution  befitting  the 
occasion,  both  of  us  bent  far  over,  that  our  figures 
might  not  be  revealed.  Zeb  carried  his  rifle;  I  had 
sword  and  pistol.  The  house  had  several  windows  on 
the  ground  floor,  all  closed  with  heavy  shutters.  I 
was  sure  that  Louise  or  Marie  would  be  listening  and 
watching  at  one  or  another  of  these,  and  I  hoped  that 
we  would  be  able  to  attract  their  attention  and  secure 
an  entrance.  Once  inside,  whether  or  not  we  were 
able  to  get  out  again  that  night,  we  would  have  a  great 
advantage. 

We  were  halfway  across  the  opening  and  our  enemy 
had  not  given  the  slightest  evidence  that  he  saw  us. 
A  few  feet  more  and  we  would  be  beyond  the  range 
of  any  rifle  from  the  stable  where  the  French  lay. 

An  unusually  keen  eye  watching  that  particular 
point  at  that  particular  moment  might  see  us,  other- 
wise not.  I  felt  some  apprehension  and  a  certain 
tremor  at  the  idea  of  making  myself  an  unprotected 
target  for  ambushed  Frenchmen,  but  the  point  was 
passed  in  a  few  moments,  and  there  was  no  rifle  shot, 
no  sound  whatever  from  the  enemy. 

I  had  marked  a  window  which  I  could  reach  with 
my  hand,  and  we  hurried  toward  it. 

We  arrived  at  the  window  without  interruption, 
and  stood  close  to  the  house  in  its  dark  shadow. 
Looking  back  from  that  point  toward  the  woods  which 
we  had  left,  I  could  see  only  a  black  blur,  the  dark- 
ness being  great  enough  to  obscure  the  outlines  of  tree 
trunks.    I  felt  satisfied  that  we  were  not  observed,  and, 


MLLE.  DE  ST.  MAUR  S  PREFERENCE. 


289 


lOuse.  I 
g  for  an 
he  house 
md  take 
with  the 

tting  the 
r  figures 
e;  I  had 
tdows  on 
itters.  I 
ning  and 
)ped  that 
id  secure 
we  were 
e  a  great 

IT  enemy 
saw  us. 
he  range 
\i  lay. 
►articular 
s,  other- 
i  certain 
)rotected 
Dint  was 
ifle  shot, 

ach  with 

Tuption, 
shadow. 
is  which 
le  dark- 
s  of  tree 
'ed,  and, 


reaching  out,  I  tapped  on  the  window  shutter  with  the 
butt  of  my  sword. 

Tap- tap!  tap-tap!  it  sounded.  In  the  dead  stillness 
of  the  night  the  noise  was  fearfully  distinct.  There 
was  no  answer,  and  I  was  forced  to  repeat  it,  still  with- 
out answer. 

"  Shake  it,  if  you  can,"  said  Zeb,  who  stood  a  little 
farther  away  watching  for  an  attack. 

I  pushed  at  the  heavy  shutter  with  my  hands,  and 
it  gave  a  little,  making  a  heavy  rasping  noise. 

"Who's  there?"  asked  some  one  in  a  whisper, 
audible  through  the  little  crack  where  two  of  the 
boards  joined.  1  knew  the  voice  was  Louise's,  and  in 
the  same  whisper  I  answered  that  it  was  I,  Edward 
Charteris.  and  I  begged  her  for  the  sake  of  everything 
to  open  the  window  at  once. 

The  window  was  opened  and  Louise's  face,  pale  in 
the  dark,  appeared.  Marie  looked  over  her  shoulder, 
half  frightened,  half  delighted.  Without  another  word 
from  me,  without  giving  them  time  to  think  or  ask 
questions,  I  seized  the  window  sill,  pulled  myself  up, 
and  scrambled  in,  Zeb  following  close  after  me.  Then 
we  closed  the  window  and  barred  it. 

In  a  corner  of  the  room  a  candle  made  a  faint 
light.  I  glanced  at  Louise.  Her  face  was  still  very 
pale,  but  I  could  see  that  I  was  welcome — ay!  three- 
fold welcome, ' 

"  I  do  not  know  what  my  father  would  say,"  she 
said  with  an  attempt  at  a  jest  and  a  laugh,  "  when  he 
hears  that  I  refused  to  admit  the  foes  of  France  to  his 
house  by  day  but  let  them  in  by  night." 

"  There  is  ample  reason  for  it,"  1  said.  "  Savaignan 
is  a  blackguard  and  a  robber  and  worse,  and  you  know 
it,  if  your  father  does  not." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said  hurriedly,  "  I  fear  that  it  is 
true,  but  what  do  vou  mean  to  do? " 


290 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


IV      I     I 


^1 


"  Zeb  and  I  will  carry  you  away  with  us,"  I  said. 
**  We  have  some  honest  men  outside  who  will  escort 
you  in  safety  to  the  English  camp,  and  then  send  you 
back  into  Quebec  if  you  wish.  If  there  is  any  question 
of  your  loyalty  to  France,  you  can  say  we  took  you 
by  force;  it  would  be  the  whitest  of  lies.  At  any  rate, 
no  harm  would  be  done."  . 

I  felt  what  I  said  very  deeply,  and  I  knew  that  my 
manner  and  words  impressed  her.  Again  little  Marie 
was  my  loyal  second  and  ally. 

"  Yes,  yes,  mademoiselle!  "  she  cried.  "  Monsieur 
speaks  the  truth;  it  is  better  for  us  to  go  and  escape 
those  wolves  outside  who  call  themselves  Frenchmen." 

"  I  will  trust  you,"  said  Louise  to  me. — "  Come, 
Marie,  let  us  get  our  cloaks  and  Pierre  and  go." 

She  took  the  candle  and  led  the  way  into  the  next 
room,  Marie,  Zeb,  and  I  but  a  step  behind  her. 

As  I  passed  through  the  doorway  I  saw  the  light 
of  another  candle  coming  to  meet  us.  It  was  held  by 
the  hands  of  Pierre,  and  beside  him  was  Savaignan. 

I  think  that  they  were  as  much  surprised  as  we 
at  the  meeting.  Louise  uttered  a  low  cry ;  Pierre 
nearly  let  the  candle  drop.  We  stood  for  a  moment 
or  two  staring  at  each  other.  All  of  us  except  Pierre 
and  the  girls  li^d  arms  in  our  hands.  Savaignan,  with 
the  natural  quickness  of  a  Frenchman,  was  the  first 
to  speak. 

"  There  is  more  than  one  window  to  the  house,  and 
more  than  one  man  to  enter,  mademoiselle  and  mon- 
sieur," he  said  with  a  satirical  glance  at  Louise  and 
then  at  me. 

"  Yes,  and  more  than  one  person  to  admit  them," 
I  said,  looking  at  Pierre,  for  I  was  sure  it  was  the  im- 
placable old  wretch  who  had  admitted  Savaignan. 

"  We  are  French,  and  this  is  the  home  of  a  French- 
man," said  Savaignan. 


■^T 


MLLE.  DE  ST.  MAUR  S  PREFERENCE. 


201 


'  I  said. 
11  escort 
end  you 
question 
Dok  you 
iny  rate, 

that  my 
e  Marie 

[onsieur 
1  escape 
chmen." 
"  Come, 
go." 
Lhe  next 

he  light 
held  by 
gnan. 
i  as  we 
Pierre 
noment 
t  Pierre 
in,  with 
:he  first 

ise,  and 
d  mon- 
ise  and 

them," 
the  im- 
nan. 
^rench- 


"  It  is  English  now,"  I  replied,  "  for  we  have  made 
a  conquest  of  it." 

We  stood  just  as  we  were  in  the  first  moment  after 
seeing  each  other,  Louise  and  Pierre  holding  the  can- 
dles, Marie  crouching  in  fright  near  the  wall,  the 
others  of  us  with  our  hands  on  our  weapons.  I  was 
at  a  loss — never  in  my  life  at  a  greater  loss.  The  pres- 
ence of  the  women,  our  equal  position,  seemed  to  pre- 
clude a  sudden  combat. 

Savaignan  must  have  been  affected  in  the  same 
manner. 

"  Will  you  withdraw  peaceably,"  he  asked,  **  and 
leave  the  chateau  and  its  people  to  us?  We  can  not 
turn  a  drawing-rnom  into  a  slaughter  house  and  in 
the  presence  of  its  mistress,  too." 

It  was  true  that  we  were  in  the  drawing-room. 

I  had  not  noticed  it  before.  There  were  rich  rugs 
and  furs  on  the  floor,  pictures  on  the  walls,  and  all 
about  the  room  those  delicate  articles  of  furniture 
which  women  love.  But  I  had  no  idea  of  withdraw- 
ing. 

*'  I  was  about  to  make  the  same  request  of  you," 
I  said  to  Savaignan.  "  The  lady  does  not  trust  you 
as  a  true  and  gallant  Frenchman." 

"  Her  father  does,"  said  Savaignan. 

I  made  no  reply.  We  remained  as  we  were,  neither 
side  daring  to  make  a  movement.  A  httle  clock  on  the 
mantel  ticked  away  most  painfully.  The  situation  was 
fast  growing  insupportable,  but  I  saw  no  way  out 
of  it. 

"  Listen !  "  cried  Marie. 

The  faint  report  of  a  rifle  shot  came  through  the 
thick  walls.  I  knew  that  the  weapon  must  have  been 
fired  close  by  to  be  heard  by  us  at  all. 

A  second  and  a  third  report,  muffled  like  the  first, 
came  to  our  ears. 


:X\< 


«::(■}; 


ri;\ 


I 


m 


292 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


your  men  and  mine  have  met,"  said 


"I  think 
Savaignan, 

"  I  think  it  very  likely,"  I  replied. 

As  proof  of  our  surmises  rifles  were  then  fired  so 
rapidly  that  we  could  not  count  the  shots.  Yells  and 
whoops,  English  and  French,  mingled  with  the  volleys. 
Beyond  a  doubt  my  men  and  the  French  were  match- 
ing their  skill  and  courage  in  combat. 

"  I  don't  think  there's  any  need  of  our  fightin'," 
said  Zeb,  leaning  his  lank  length  against  the  door 
jamb  and  making  himself  easy.  "  They'll  settle  it  out 
there  for  us." 

The  sounds  of  the  conflict  continued.  The  men 
were  whooping  and  firing  with  great  energy  and  like 
true  rangers  of  the  forest. 

"  As  all  of  us  are  much  interested  in  the  result, 
perhaps  we  would  like  to  hear  better,"  said  Savaignan. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  I  said,  and,  stepping  to  a  win- 
dow, I  threw  the  heavy  shutters  open. 

Instantly  the  noise  of  the  conflict  tripled.  The 
shouts  and  the  shots  seemed  to  be  almost  in  our  ears, 
and  the  darkness  added  to  the  zeal  of  the  combatants. 
Certainly  a  night  conflict  excels  all  others  in  noise. 
Firing  in  the  darkness,  it  takes  more  shots  to  produce 
a  result. 

Accustomed  as  they  had  become  to  warfare  and  its 
alarms,  the  girls  shuddered  at  the  frightful  uproar. 
Louise  still  held  the  candle.  It  might  have  been  the 
part  of  gallantry  for  me  to  take  it  from  her  hand,  but 
as  I  was  likely  to  need  my  own  hands  for  some  more 
serious  purpose,  I  refrained. 

The  window  was  high  above  the  floor,  and  any 
shot  entering  there  would  pass  over  our  heads,  but 
the  conflict  had  moved  around  within  its  range  and 
we  could  see  the  flash  of  the  rifles  as  the  men  fought 
almost  muzzle  to  muzzle,  it  seemed.    The  French  cries 


MLLE.    ua   ST.    MAUR  S    PREFERENCE. 


293 


it,"   said 


fired  so 
''ells  and 
:  volleys. 
t  match-' 

fightin'," 
he  door 
;le.  it  out 

"he  men 
and  like 

e  result, 
vaignan. 
o  a  win- 

;d.  The 
our  ears, 
nbatants. 
in  noise, 
produce 

e  and  its 
uproar, 
been  the 
land,  but 
me  more 

and  any 
;ads,  but 
tnge  and 
n  fought 
nch  cries 


were  shriller  than  ours,  and,  moreover,  the  two  being 
in  different  tongues,  I  could  distinguish  them  easily 
above  the  uproar.  Savaignan  had  drawn  a  little  nearer 
to  the  window,  and  was  listening  with  the  most  eager, 
intent  expression  I  ever  saw  on  a  man's  face.  Good 
cause  he  had  too  for  his  anxiety,  as  the  result  of  the 
contest  meant  as  much  to  him  as  to  me  or  to  any 
of  us. 

The  center  of  conflict  began  to  shift.  One  side 
was  yielding,  and  the  battle  would  soon  be  decided. 
The  blaze  of  the  guns  passed  beyond  the  range  of  the 
window.  Presently  the  firing  itself  began  to  diminish. 
I  had  known  that  this  result  must  come  soon.  The 
combat  was  too  fierce  to  last  long,  I  listened  intently 
to  the  shouting,  that  I  might  tell  by  it  which  side  was 
winning. 

The  deep  American  cheer  rose  above  the  whoops  of 
the  French  and  soon  submerged  the  sound  of  them, 
I  could  not  repress  a  feeling  of  elation  which  must 
have  showed  on  my  face.  Savaignan  as  well  as  I  knew 
to  which  side  the  victory  was  inclining.  The  scatter- 
ing fire  outside  ceased  suddenly,  was  followed  by  a 
long  triumphant  shout,  and  then  silence. 

Savaignan  was  standing  beside  the  window.  With 
a  quickness  I  could  not  anticipate,  he  dashed  the  candle 
from  the  old  Canadian's  hands  and  sprang  toward  Lou- 
ise. I  slashed  at  him  with  my  sword,  but  I  was  too 
late.  He  seized  Louise,  and  the  candle,  falling  from 
her  hand,  sputtered  still  on  the  floor,  but  gave  out  so 
faint  a  light  that  we  could  scarce  see  each  other's 
faces 

We  were  checkmated  for  the  moment.  Zeb,  ex- 
pe»'t  marksman  though  he  was,  dared  not  fire  in  the 
obscurity  at  Savaignan  for  fear  of  hitting  Louise, 
whom  the  Frenchman  held  between  himself  and  us. 

"  To  the  door,  Pierre!  "  shouted  Savaignan, 


M 


1.  r.     ! 


n^ 


I, 


■A 


n 


. 


' 


294 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


He  dragged  Louise  toward  the  second  door,  the 
one  through  which  they  had  entered.  I  sprang  for- 
ward to  interfere,  but  Pierre  fired  a  pistol  ball  at  me, 
which  missed,  though  the  flash  of  the  powder  blinded 
and  stopped  me  for  a  few  moments.  Before  I  could 
recover  or  before  Zeb,  who  was  farther  away,  could 
help,  Savaignan  and  Pierre  were  through  the  door 
with  Louise,  and  had  slammed  it  in  our  faces.  Little 
Marie  stuck  her  head  out  of  the  window  and  shouted 
at  the  top  of  her  voice: 

"  Help,  Englishmen!  For  the  love  of  Heaven  and 
the  Holy  Virgin,  help!" 

I  threw  all  my  weight  against  the  closed  door,  but 
they  had  locked  it,  and  it  withstood  the  impact.  I 
heard  a  muffled  sound  like  a  shriek  from  Louise,  and 
I  was  hot  with  rage  and  grief  that  Savaignan  had  out- 
witted me  and  secured  such  a  hostage.  Zeb  dragged 
Marie  from  the  window  and  shouted  in  her  ear,  asking 
if  the  e  were  not  another  way  to  reach  Savaignan. 
Marie,  as  I  have  said,  was  a  girl  of  ready  wit,  and 
under  Zeb's  rough  handling  all  her  courage  and  pres- 
ence of  mind  came  back  to  her. 

"  Come  through  the  hall! "  she  cried,  dashing  out 
at  the  first  door. 

We  followed  so  closely  that  we  were  almost  at  her 
side.  The  rugs  and  furs  had  caught  from  the  sputter- 
ing candle  and  were  in  a  blaze,  but  we  had  no  time  to 
stop  for  such  things.  The  hall  was  narrow,  and  made 
three  or  four  turnings.  At  the  last  we  heard  the  noise 
of  footsteps  above  us. 

''Up  the  stairway!"  cried  Marie.  "They  have 
gone  to  the  second  floor!" 

We  would  probably  have  broken  our  heads  or  limbs 
in  the  darkness  had  it  not  been  for  the  brave  little 
Marie,  who  knew  the  way.  She  dashed  for  the  stair- 
way, and  we  followed  her  dim  figure  in  the  half  dusk. 


Dor,  the 
ing  for- 
1  at  me, 
blinded 
I  could 
J,  could 
le  door 
Little 
shouted 

ven  and 

Dor,  but 
3act.  I 
ise,  and 
lad  out- 
dragged 
,  asking 
/^aignan. 
vit,  and 
nd  pres- 

ling  out 

it  at  her 
sputter- 
time  to 
id  made 
!^ie  noise 

ly  have 

or  limbs 
ve  little 
le  sta;r- 
ilf  dusk. 


MLLE.  DE  ST.  MAUR  S  PREFERENCE. 


295 


I  took  three  steps  at  a  bound,  but  stopped  at  the  sight 
of  Savaignan  rnd  Pierre  at  the  head  of  the  steps.  The 
Frenchman  held  Louise  by  the  waist.  I  could  not  see 
the  expression  of  his  face,  but  from  the  sound  of  his 
voice  I  judged  that  he  had  gone  mad. 

"  If  you  come  a  step  farther,"  he  cried,  "  I  will 
kill  her,  I  swear  it,  and  then  we  will  fight  with  you 
for  the  house  afterward." 

I  believed  that  he  meant  it.  The  F-^ench  are  very 
hot  of  blood,  and  sometimes  do  strange,  wild  things. 
I  shrank  back,  not  willing  that  my  own  action  should 
destroy  the  dear  girl  whom  I  was  trying  to  save.  Zeb, 
too,  paused  beside  me,  his  fertile  brain  for  once  at  a 
loss. 

Our  deliverance  came  from  Louise  herself.  She 
was  no  milk-and-water  girl,  fainting  at  the  sight  of 
danger,  but  a  brave  woman,  who  seldom  forgot  the 
spirit  of  the  race  ^rom  which  she  sprang.  Reaching 
up,  she  seized  Savaignan's  pistol  with  both  hands  and 
suddenly  jerked  it  from  him.  He  loosed  his  grasp  of 
her  waist  and  snatched  at  the  weapon  to  regain  it,  but 
in  a  r  ioment  she  had  fled  down  the  steps  and  was  with 
us.  Thence  at  my  quick  comma^id  she  and  Marie  fled 
down  the  hall  and  were  concealed  by  the  last  turn. 
Savaignan  did  not  fire  upon  me.  He  had  another 
pistol,  and  I  wondered  why  he  did  not  attempt  to  use 
it.  His  attitude  was  that  of  a  listener.  I,  too,  bent 
my  ear,  and  I  heard  the  distant  hum  of  encouraging 
cries  and  commands  to  hasten.  I  knew  it  was  my 
faithful  men  clambering  in  at  the  open  window  to  our 
rescue.  Mingled  with  it  was  a  steady  though  sub- 
dued roar,  like  the  far-away  sound  of  water  pouring 
over  a  rock,  that  I  did  not  recognize.  My  attention 
was  distracted  by  these  sounds;  so  must  have  been 
Zeb's,  for  Savaignan  and  Pierre  turned  and  rushed 
into  one  of  the  rooms  on  the  second  floor.    I  sprang 


296 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


]     i  9i 


up  two  steps  to  follow  them,  but  Zeb  came  after  me 
and  put  a  strong  and  restraining  hand  upon  my  arm. 

"  Look,  leftenant!  "  he  said,  pulling  me  around  and 
pointing  down  the  hall. 

A  broad  light  flared  even  to  the  stairway,  and  the 
roar  which  had  mystified  me  grew  louder.  The  crack- 
ling of  dry  wood  and  the  shouts  of  my  men  calling  to 
me  and  Zeb  mingled  with  it. 

"  The  house  is  on  fire,"  said  Zeb  calmly.  "  We'd 
better  let  the  Frenchmen  go  and  save  them  gals  and 
ourselves." 

At  the  turning  Louise  and  Marie  were  waiting  for 
us,  somewhat  frightened,  but  armed  with  presence  of 
mind.  The  fire  was  feeding  fast  upon  the  dry  timbers 
of  the  house.  Smoke,  lit  here  and  there  with  sparks, 
was  beginning  to  fly  down  the  hall.  I  knew  that  the 
old  house  must  soon  go;  all  the  result  of  one  over- 
turned candle. 

"  Come,  I'll  show  the  way,"  said  my  brave  Louise. 
I  seized  her  hand  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  I 
suppose,  and  she  led  the  way  by  another  route  to  the 
floor  below,  Zeb  and  Marie  following.  There  the  noise 
of  the  flames  was  louder,  for  one  end  of  the  house 
seemed  to  be  all  ablaze,  but  we  came  plump  among 
my  men,  half  lost  in  the  mazes  of  the  old  French  house, 
and  shouting  for  me  and  Zeb.  They  welcomed  us  with 
a  glad  shout,  but,  not  stopping  for  explanations,  we 
ran  to  the  nearest  window,  which  we  threw  open,  and 
all  scrambled  out  with  a  sad  loss  of  dignity  but  plenty 
of  gladness. 

When  we  stood  on  the  ground  fifty  yards  from  the 
house,  I  was  am.azed  at  the  extent  to  which  the  fire  had 
grown  in  so  short  a  space. 

It  was  as  light  as  day  almost  to  the  rim  of  the 
forest.  The  flames  had  eaten  through  the  roof  and 
shot  far  above  it,  discharg^ing  showers  of  sparks. 


MLLE.  DE  ST.  MAUR  S  PREFERENCE. 


297 


I  sent  men  to  the  other  side  of  the  house  and  or- 
dered them  not  to  fire  on  Savaig^nan  and  Pierre  when 
they  appeared  in  case  thc;  offered  to  surrender.  Jiut 
as  the  fire  spread  with  great  rapidity  to  all  parts  of  the 
house,  the  two  Frenchmen,  much  to  my  surprise,  did 
not  appear. 

"  They  ran  up  toward  the  roof,"  said  Zt^).  **  an' 
the  fire  was  below.    Mavbe  thev  were  cut  off." 

It  was  so.  The  faces  of  Savaignan  and  Pierre  ap- 
peared at  an  opening  in  the  roof.  Then  they  climbed 
upon  it,  and  stood  a  moment  or  two  as  if  calculating 
the  possibilities  of  escape.  I  ihink  they  would  have 
risked  the  chances  of  the  long  drop  to  the  ground, 
but  with  a  great  crash  the  roof,  its  supports  eaten 
away  by  the  fire,  fell  in,  carrying  the  two  Frenchmen 
with  it. 

The  two  girls  withdrew  from  the  sad  sight,  but 
some  of  us  stood  by  until  the  last  of  the  building  fell, 
and  only  great  heaps  of  embers  remained  where  the 
manor  house  of  St.  Maur  had  stood.  Beneath  the 
charred  fragments  what  was  left  of  the  bones  of  Savai- 
gnan and  Pierre  rested,  and  may  rest  to  this  day. 

It  was  a  melancholy  fate.  I  had  no  cause  ,0  like 
Savaignan,  but  he  possessed  cunning  and  courage, 
neither  of  which  had  availed  him  anything  in  the  end. 
His  luck  was  bad  and  mine  good,  I  suppose. 

There  was  no  work  left  for  us  to  do,  and  I  thought 
of  returning  at  once  with  Louise  and  her  maid  to  the 
camp  before  Quebec.  But  they  were  too  much  worn 
with  excitement  to  start  at  once,  and,  in  truth,  all  of 
us  needed  rest. 

We  left  the  remains  of  the  house  and  moved  a 
mile  farther  up  the  river  to  a  clearing  which  was  large 
enough  to  forbid  ambush,  and  built  a  fire  there,  as  the 
night  was  turning  chilly.  I  persuaded  Louise  and 
Marie  to  lie  down  beside  it  and  sleep. 


■ 

i 

I> 


■T*'WPW?PWP?iB!PBr" 


298 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


,; 


Cook  told  me  l)riefly  that  a  few  minutes  after  Zeb 
had  pone  into  the  house  he  and  his  men  unexpectedly 
met  the  French  in  the  woods,  into  which  they  had 
slipped  from  the  stable.  A  fierce  combat,  almost  hand 
to  hand,  followed,  in  which  the  French  were  routed, 
their  survivors  fleeing  with  incredible  speed.  We  had 
lost  two  men  and  several  more  had  wounds.  I  re- 
gretted my  brave  fellows,  but  had  not  time  to  mourn 
them  long,  and,  as  Zeb  aptly  remarked,  the  luck  had 
been  nearly  all  on  our  side. 

We  began  the  return  next  morning.  It  was  slow, 
of  necessity,  as  partisan  bands  abounded  in  the  woods, 
and  we  had  no  wish  just  then  for  a  further  encounter 
with  the  French.  I  walked  by  the  side  of  Louise  for 
awhile,  and  we  had  a  chance  to  talk  unheard  by  others. 

I  was  troubled  somewhat  by  the  view  the  Seigneur 
de  Six  Maur  might  take  of  these  affairs.  He  was  the 
friend  of  Savaignan,  and  would  be  loath  to  believe  that 
he  had  gone  to  the  manor  house  with  bad  intentions. 
I  expressed  these  doubts  to  Louise,  but  she  brushed 
them  aside  and  said  she  would  be  able  to  prove  the 
truth  to  her  father. 

**  And  I  hope  that  then  he  will  be  able  to  think 
well  of  me  in  other  respects,  not  merely  as  an  honor- 
able foe,"  I  said. 

"  He  surely  will,"  she  replied  softly  and  with  a 
blush. 

Our  further  journey  was  without  event.  We  passed 
around  Quebec  in  safety,  and,  as  my  duty  bade  me,  I 
reported  that  we  had  rescued  two  French  ladies  on  our 
raid  from  some  prowlers,  and  asked  what  to  do  with 
them.  The  reply  was  to  send  them  in  to  Quebec  to 
their  friends. 

Fifteen  or  twenty  others  taken  from  the  manor 
houses  along  the  .river  were  going  at  the  same  time. 
I  bade  Louise  good-by  for  awhile.    Her  hand  lingered 


ifter  Zeb 
ipectedly 
hey  had 
ost  hand 
;  routed, 
We  had 
s.  I  re- 
D  mourn 
luck  had 

ras  slow, 
e  woods, 
iicounter 
Duise  for 
y  others. 
Seigneur 

was  the 
ieve  that 
tentions. 

brushed 
rove  the 

to  think 
1  honor- 

[  with  a 

e  passed 
de  me,  I 
s  on  our 
do  with 
uebec  to 

;  manor 
ne  time, 
lingered 


MLLE.    DE    ST.    MAUR*S    PREFERENCE.  299 

in  mine.  Zeb  was  there,  and  with  the  freedom  of  the 
backwoods  he  chucked  the  brave  little  Marie  under 
the  chin.  She  gave  him  a  smart  blow  on  the  cheek 
and  called  him  an  English  bear,  but  Zeb  did  not  seem 
to  mind. 

I  had  proof  that  Louise  put  the  case  well  to  her 
father,  for  in  a  few  days  the  good  Father  Michel  smug- 
gled me  a  letter  from  the  seigneur  himself,  in  which 
he  thanked  me  and  with  true  French  politeness  en- 
larged on  the  obligations  of  his  family  to  me,  hoping 
that  the  time  would  come  when  he  could  repay  me. 
I  hoped  so  too. 


90 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


ON   THE   PLAINS   OF  ABRAHAM. 


Time  began  to  lag  again.  The  country  was  rav- 
aged ill  an  ever-widening  circle,  of  which  Quebec  was 
the  center  There  was  a  skirmish  somewhere  nearly 
every  day,  and  our  batteries  which  threatened  the 
great  rock  were  seldom  silent.  But  all  these  things 
were  mere  smoke  and  noise.  The  real  issue  was 
Quebec,  and  we  seemed  to  get  no  nearer  a  favorable 
result.  Sickness  devastated  our  camps,  and  it  was 
reported  two  or  three  times  that  the  general  in  chief 
was  dying.  Then  came  the  news  from  below  that  we 
had  taken  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point,  that  Niagara 
had  fallen,  and  that  Amherst  with  a  powerful  army 
was  about  to  advance  en  Montreal.  This  was  wine  to 
us,  and  we  pressed  the  siege  with  much  vigor. 

One  night  I  saw  our  batteries  on  Point  Levis  set 
the  lower  town  on  fire.  It  was  not  the  first  time,  but 
this  night  the  blaze  l:ecame  a  conflagration,  and  the 
flames  rose  far  above  the  houses  they  were  devouring. 
In  their  light  Quebec  and  its  rock  became  a  great  cone 
of  red,  pink  on  the  outer  edges,  while  above  the  area 
of  l)ght  a  black  smoke  cloud  gathered. 

The  glow  of  the  flames  fell  in  long  red  bars  across 
the  river,  and  the  rigging  of  an  English  ship  in  the 
stream  seemed  touched  with  fire.  It  appeared  to  us 
trom  the  violence  of  the  fire  and  its  duration  that  the 
whole  lower  town  was  burning,  but  the  flames  sank 

300 


ON    THE    PLAINS    OF   ABRAHAM. 


301 


^as  rav- 
;bec  was 
e  nearly 
med  the 
;e  things 
sue  was 
lavorable 
d  it  was 

in  chief 
'  that  we 

Niagara 
ful  army 

wine  to 

,evis  set 
ime,  but 
and  the 

jvouring. 

reat  cone 
the  area 

rs  across 
ip  in  the 
ed  to  us 
that  the 
Ties  sank 


after  awhile,  died  out  at  last,  and  left  river  and  city 
to  their  customary  half  darkness.  We  heard  the  next 
day  that  neady  two  hundred  houses  had  been  burned. 
The  unfortunate  population  of  Quebec,  and  not  the 
French  army,  had  been  the  chief  sufferers. 

Our  burst  of  enthusiasm  at  the  report  of  Am- 
herst's progress  was  soon  dispelled  by  news  that  he 
was  calmly  enjoying  his  tHumphs  and  was  not  ad- 
vancing on  Montreal,  leaving  us  to  carry  on  the  war 
in  Canada  alone.  We  fell  back  into  our  old  despond- 
ency, and  it  was  increased  by  the  reports  that  tlie  ill- 
ntss  of  our  general  was  gaining  upon  him.  I  had 
occasion  once  to  carry  dispatches  to  him,  and  I  proved 
for  myself  the  truth  of  these  reports. 

The  general's  headquarters  were  in  an  old  French 
farmhouse  in  our  camp  at  Montmorency.  He  lay  in 
his  bed  in  a  room  on  the  second  floor,  and  his  face  was 
so  pale,  so  thin,  so  drawn  that  he  looked  to  me  like 
a  man  dying,  only  his  eye  was  strong  and  bright. 
Yet  the  fires  of  a  hero  still  burned  in  him,  and  with 
eagerness  and  wonderful  pertinency  he  drew  from  me, 
as  he  did  from  all  others  who  came  before  him,  every 
scrap  of  information  that  I  had  to  give. 

Zeb  made  another  successful  trip  into  Quebec.  He 
seemed  to  have  established  a  sort  of  underground 
system  of  communication  with  Father  Michel,  and 
brought  me  news  that  the  seigneur  v/as  exultant,  more 
confident  than  ever  that  the  English  would  be  sent 
scuttling  out  of  Canada,  but  that  mademoiselle  his 
daughter  was  not  so  sure. 

"  She  has  a  better  opinion  of  the  English,  or  some 
of  'em,"  said  Zeb  with  a  familiarity  which  I  tolerated 
o*'  that  occasion. 

August  passed,  September  came,  and  not  much  had 
happened,  save  that  more  of  our  ships  had  run  the 
French  batteries,  and  quite  a  brave  fleet  was  anchored 


1 


302 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


above  the  town.  I  was  in  the  camp  at  Montmorency, 
and  a  lot  of  us  were  gathered  in  the  shade  of  some 
tents.  Culverhouse  was  there,  and  Spencer,  now  my 
very  good  friend,  Graham,  and  others.  We  were  dis- 
cussing the  campaign  listlessly  when  the  shadow  of 
Martin  Groot  fell  over  us. 

"  Any  fresh  profits.  Mynheer  Groot?  "  I  asked.  He 
was  well  known  to  the  others,  too,  as  a  patriot  whose 
profits  grew  larger  the  longer  the  campaign  lasted. 

Martin  took  the  gibe  calmly.  He  looked  at  us  a 
few  moments  with  a  pitying  expression,  then  rejoined: 

"  None  at  present,  but  there  are  to  be  fresh  blows 
for  you,  gentlemen;  you  might  as  well  get  ready  for 
them." 

They  rallied  him.  and  wanted  to  know  when  and 
where  the  blows  were  to  be  given,  but  they  got  nothing 
more  from  him,  and  he  went  away,  leaving  them  in  a 
state  of  unbelief.  I  had  known  him  a  long  time,  how- 
ever, and,  as  I  was  aware  of  his  shrewdness  and  his 
possession  of  good  sources  ci  information,  I  was  con- 
fident that  some  great  operation  was  afoot. 

My  prevision  was  correct,  for  we  broke  up  camp 
the  next  day  at  Montmorency  and  took  ship  for  Point 
Levis  and  the  Point  of  Orleans.  The  French  came 
down  in  strong  force  behind  us  to  give  us  a  scorching 
by  way  of  a  parting  souvenir,  but  thought  better  of  it 
when  we  turned  to  meet  them. 

Then  followed  a  short  period  of  great  doubt  to 
many  of  us,  but  soon  we  were  gathered  above  the  town 
for  a  decisive  blow.  Everybody  seemed  to  feel  that 
the  end  was  coming — the  end  of  the  French  power  in 
Quebec  or  the  end  of  our  aitempt  to  destroy  it.  Many 
of  our  heaviest  batteries  had  been  taken  from  their 
former  resting  places.  The  bombardment  sank  to 
nothing,  and  the  silence  of  the  great  guns,  the  anxiety 
on  the  faces  of  all  seemed  certain  portents  of  a  great 


ON    THE    PLAINS    OF    ABRAHAM. 


303 


lorency, 
3f  some 
low  my 
^ere  dis- 
idow  of 

ed.  He 
t  whose 
sted. 
at  us  a 
ejoined: 
h  blows 
;ady  for 

hen  and 
nothing 
lem  in  a 
le,  how- 
and  his 
vas  :on- 

ip  camp 
or  Point 
ch  came 
:orching 
tter  of  it 

loubt  to 
the  town 
feel  that 
DOwer  in 
:.  Many 
)m  their 
sank  to 
\  anxiety 
:  a  great 


attempt.  The  waning  summer,  the  browning  of  the 
leaves,  the  increasing  chill  of  the  night  air,  too,  told 
us  it  was  time  to  do  what  we  intended  to  do  or  we 
would  soon  have  a  Quebec  winter  as  well  as  the  French 
to  fight. 

I  shall  not  forget  the  many  hours,  the  days  even, 
we  pissed  in  the  transports,  so  chock-full  of  red-coated 
soldieis  that  the  air  became  heat  to  the  lungs  and  a 
disgust  to  the  nostrils.  Down  we  drifted  and  back 
we  sailed,  and  then  down  and  back  again,  until  we 
began  to  feel  as  if  it  was  our  duty  to  go  forever  back 
and  forth  like  the  pendulum  of  a  clock.  The  only 
humor  in  it  to  me  was  the  sight  of  the  French  rushing 
up  and  down  the  rough  cliffs  that  they  might  meet  us 
wherever  we  would  attempt  to  land.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  we  were  responsible  for  many  a  bruised  French 
foot  and  ankle  and  many  an  abused  French  oath.  I 
saw  one  fat  fellow — a  sergeant,  I  think — in  his  eager- 
ness to  keep  abreast  of  our  ship  tumble  into  a  gully, 
and  it  took  two  of  his  comrades  to  drag  him  out.  But 
it  was  an  anxious  time  for  me  nevertheless.  Not  alone 
was  I  concerned  with  the  fate  of  the  campaign — even 
a  private  will  feel  such  an  interest  as  that — but  there 
were  those  in  Quebec  who  were  much  in  my  mind  too, 
and  it  hurts  a  man's  nerves  to  be  beset  on  either  side 
by  anxieties. 

The  night  of  the  12th  of  September  came,  and  we 
were  gathered  in  a  fleet  in  the  river,  but  we  had  a 
bigger  fleet  down  below.  We  above  the  town  knew 
that  a  decisive  hour  was  at  hand.  When  the  dark 
came  on  a  cannon  from  the  fleet  below  thundered. 
It  was  followed  by  another  and  then  another,  and  then 
the  crash  of  whole  broadsides,  and  river  and  shore 
echoed  with  the  roar  of  the  fleet's  great  guns. 

But  above  the  town  we  who  were  to  do  the  real 
work  lay  in  darkness  and  silence,  while  the  mock  com- 


304 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


! 


'i 


bat  below  thundered  and  blazed  and  Montcalm  hur- 
ried his  troops  to  the  Beauport  shore  to  meet  the  at- 
tack he  expected  there.  While  the  sailors  were  ex- 
pending the  King's  powder  and  ball  at  a  tremendous 
rate,  we  waited  till  turn  of  tide,  and  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning  I  saw  two  lanterns  go  up  to  the  maintop 
of  the  flagship.  Then  we  climbed  into  our  boats  and 
embarked  on  our  perilous  venture.  Down  the  broad 
river  we  went,  a  silent  procession.  The  stars  were 
out,  but  the  shores  were  in  gloom. 

The  great  river  flowed  on  like  the  tide  of  the  sea, 
the  stillness  broken  only  by  the  lap  of  its  waters  and 
the  splashing  of  our  oars.  As  the  man  next  to  me 
lifted  his  oar  the  water  fell  off  it  in  huge  scales  of 
molten  silver. 

"  Surely  the  French  spies  are  abroad  and  are  watch- 
ing our  movements,"  I  said  to  Zeb,  who  sat  in  our 
boat. 

"  Guess  they  are,"  he  replied,  "  but  they  don't  know 
what  kind  of  a  fox  chase  we  are  on.  They'll  have  to 
keep  on  watchin'." 

We  swung  steadily  on.  My  mind  wenl  back  to 
Ticonderoga.  But  our  advance  was  very  different 
now.  Then  it  was  in  broad  daylight  amid  the  crash' 
of  bands,  and  with  the  sunlight  gleaming  on  sword 
and  bayonet;  now  it  was  in  the  darkness  and  silence 
of  the  night.    In  which  would  we  fare  better? 

We  came  presently  to  mighty  cliffs  which  flung, 
their  black  shadows  far  over  us. 

"  Qui  vive?  "  called  a  French  sentry.  He  was  in- 
visible, but  his  voice,  sharp  and  clear,  cut  through  the 
darkness. 

"  France,"  answered  a  Highland  officer  in  the  boat 
just  ahead  of  us. 

*'A  quel  regiment?**  called  the  sentry. 

"  De  la  Reine"  called  back  the  Highlander. 


•"■W 


"wpppp 


ON    THE    PLAINS    OF   ABRAHAM. 


305 


The  Frenchman  beheving  us  friends,  and  worn 
perhaps  with  long  watching,  asked  no  moie,  and  we 
passed  on.  He  had  been  a  voice  only  and  not  a  form 
to  us.  Doubtless  nobody  will  ever  know  who  he  was. 
The  steady  splash  of  our  oars  continued  in  the  dark- 
ness. Looking  back,  I  could  trace  the  long  line  of 
boats  for  a  distance,  and  then  the  end  of  it  was  lost  in 
the  dusk. 

Again  we  were  challenged  by  a  French  sentry,  and 
again  with  ready  answer  we  passed  as  Frenchmen. 
It  was  a  kindly  darkness  that  night,  hiding  our  scarlet 
coats. 

We  rounded  a  headland  and  disembarked  upon  a 
strip  of  sand  with  as  little  noise  as  many  men  can 
make.  Above  us  lowered  the  black  cHfTs,  steep,  but 
not  too  steep  for  agile  men  to  climb,  though  the  French 
never  thought  of  an  army  coming  up  there,  nor  the 
English  either  until  the  last  hour. 

A  call  was  made  for  volunteers,  active  men  to  lead 
the  way  up  the  cliffs  into  the  blackness  beyond.  Zeb 
and  I  pressed  forward,  and  a  smart  bunch  of  us,  a 
score  or  more,  began  the  steep  and  rough  ascent.  It 
was  a  task  of  honor,  but  not  of  ease.  Bruises  were 
plentiful,  and  we  swore  under  our  breath.  We  grasped 
at  anything  that  could  give  support — bushes,  briers, 
stones — and  pulled  ourselves  up  with  slowness  and 
pain.  Above  us  we  could  see  nothing  but  the  cliff 
head,  and  we  did  not  know  what  was  waiting  for  us 
on  the  summit.  The  French  might  be  there,  ready  to 
blow  us  with  a  storm  of  bullets  back  to  the  bottom, 
but  that  was  one  of  the  risks  we  had  to  take,  though 
I  will  admit  that  it  gave  large  and  unpleasant  liberties 
to  the  imagination. 

Thus  the  night  scramble  proceeded.  I  looked  back 
and  saw  the  uniforms  of  the  men  behind  me  showing 
through  the  darkness  like  a  huge  red  smudge.    There 


^ 


306 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


was  a  thump,  and  somebody  cried,  "The  French!" 
But  it  was  only  a  stone  that  an  incautious  soldier  had 
set  rolling.  It  continued  to  roll  until  it  passed  out 
of  hearing,  and  for  aught  I  know  rolled  on  until  it 
found  the  bottom  of  the  river. 

"  If  a  little  stone  stirs  us  up  like  that,  what  would 
the  whole  French  army  do? "  said  Zeb. 

"  Let's  not  discuss  what  we  don't  wish  to  see  just 
yet,"  I  replied. 

I  think  I  see  the  top  of  this  pesky  cliflf,"  rejoined 
Zeb,  "  an'  darned  glad  I'll  be  when  we  get  there." 

I  expected  momentarily  to  hear  shots  from  above, 
but  there  was  none.  Only  the  exclamations  and  the 
scraping  noises  made  by  climbing  men  came  to  us. 
At  last  I  seized  a  projecting  stone  and  drew  myself 
up  the  last  foot  of  the  steep.  Zeb  and  I  and  two  or 
three  others  stood  together  upon  the  summit  of  the 
cliff. 

"  I  guess  we're  first  up,"  said  the  lad;  **  but  here 
are  the  boys  comin'  huddlin'  after  us." 

Up  they  came,  and  the  clifT  soon  had  a  red  fringe 
where  the  little  vanguard  gathered. 

In  the  faint  light  we  saw  a  cluster  of  tents  but  a 
short  distance  away.  We  made  a  rush  for  them,  and 
three  or  four  scattering  shots  were  fired  at  us.  We 
saw  some  men  springing  out  of  the  tents  looking  in 
the  gloom  like  gigantic  jumping  jacks.  Somebody 
fired  at  one  of  the  leaping  figures  and  put  a  bullet 
through  his  heel  and  an  end  to  his  flight  at  the  same 
time.  He  lay  upon  the  ground  groaning  as  much  with 
fright  as  with  pain,  and  when  we  came  up  to  him  we 
found  it  was  Vergor,  the  commander  of  the  post,  who 
had  bee  1  sleeping  calmly  in  his  tent  when  he  should 
have  been  watching  for  us.  We  took  some  of  his  men, 
but  tlie  others  fled  so  fast  that  we  could  not  have 
caught  them  unless  we  had  been  winged. 


ON   THE    PLAINS    OF   ABRAHAM. 


30; 


Our  shots  were  the  happy  signal  to  those  below  that 
the  summit  was  ours,  and  directly  the  big  red  smudge 
of  the  red-breasted  army  climbing  after  us  appeared 
on  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  I  saw  General  Wolfe  himself, 
and  was  near  enough  to  mark  the  eager  and  joyful 
flush  on  his  worn  face.  Presently  we  heard  the  boom 
of  the  cannon  off  Samos  way.  The  French  had  found 
at  last  that  the  boats  passing  down  the  river  in  the 
darkness  did  not  contain  friends,  and  they  opened 
fire  upon  the  rear  of  the  long  file.  But  it  was  too  late ; 
the  men  from  the  other  end  ot  that  file  were  on  the 
heights,  and  despite  cannon  fire  and  the  precautions  of 
the  awakened  French  they  were  surely  drawing  the 
others  up  the  heights  after  them.  Some  of  our  men 
were  detailed  to  seize  the  nearest  batteries,  but  I  had 
no  part  in  such  expeditions.  I  remained  with  the 
steadily  increasing  army  gathering  in  line  of  battle 
on  the  heights.  Zeb  had  gone  prowling  off  toward 
Quebec,  and  I  had  to  do  only  that  waiting  which  is 
so  large  a  part  of  a  soldier's  '»'ork. 

It  was  not  yet  day,  and  we  who  stood  on  the  he'ghts 
knew  very  little  of  what  was  passing.  We  could  hear 
the  distant  cannon  shots  and  the  whispered  words  of 
each  -other,  but  neither  told  us  anything.  We  could 
tell  by  the  deepening  hum  and  murmur  that  the  num- 
bers of  our  army  on  the  heights  were  increasing,  but 
what  the  French  were  preparing  for  us  we  could  not 
say.  We  had  performed  one  great  feat  and  were  ex- 
ultant over  it,  but  I  confess  that  I  was  not  sanguine 
even  yet  as  to  the  chief  event.  I  had  seen  two  brave 
armies  beaten  by  rashness  and  ill-judged  attacks,  and 
only  by  waiting  could  I  know  whether  I  was  to  see  a 
third  meet  the  same  fate. 

I  strained  my  eyes  in  the  direction  of  Quebec,  but 
could  see  nothing.  I  tried  to  draw  some  sign  from 
the  distant  cannon  shots,  but  remained  in  the  same 


3o8 


A    SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


) 


ignorance.  A  ghostly  figure  seemed  to  rise  out  of  the 
ground  at  my  feet,  and  Zeb  Crane  stood  beside  me. 

"  What  have  you  learned,  what  do  you  know, 
Zeb?"  I  asked  eagerly. 

"  Nothin'  except  what's,  good,"  he  replied.  "A 
peasant  told  me  that  Montcalm  was  still  looking  for 
us  on  the  other  side  of  the  town." 

Then  he  was  gone  to  make  his  report  to  a  colonel, 
and  we  continued  to  wait  for  the  lazy  day  which  to 
most  of  us  seemed  to  linger  as  if  it  would  never  come. 
But  come  it  did  at  last,  though  it  was  gray  with  clouds, 
gloomy,  and  threatening. 

We  were  chill  from  the  night  and  the  damp  of  a 
cloudy  morning,  and  the  cheerless  sight  of  a  gray 
plain  struck  into  the  bone.  The  rising  dawn  revealed 
no  enemies,  but  presently  a  body  of  Canadians  came 
out  of  the  town  and  moved  along  the  strand  to  our 
landing  place.  They  were  soon  driven  back,  but  the 
spatter  of  the  musketry  and  the  shouts  cleared  our 
brains  and  stirred  our  blood  until  we  felt  like  good 
men  again. 

P*-esently  we  marched  in  files  to  the  Plains  of  Abra- 
ham, formed  in  line  of  battle  there  with  our  faces  to 
Quebec,  and  waited  for  M.  Montcalm  to  come  and 
drive  us  of¥  his  doorstep  if  he  could. 

At  Ticonderoga  and  Montmorency  it  was  we  who 
made  the  rush  and  the  French  who  waited  for  us; 
here  it  was  we  who  waited. 

Quebec  was  but  a  mile  away,  but  still  we  could 
not  see  it.  A  third  of  that  distance  from  us  a  broken 
ridge  cut  the  line  of  vision  and  like  a  defiant  wall  shut 
off  Quebec  from  us.  I  think  most  of  us  spent  our  time 
staring  at  the  ugly  ridge  and  cursing  it  for  getting  in 
the  way.  I  saw  an  old  fellow  dressed  like  a  Canadian 
peasant  appear  on  a  hillock  and  gaze  at  us  for  a  minute 
as  if  we  were  some  huge  and  curious  beast.    Then  he 


ON   THE   PLAINS   OF   ABRAHAM. 


309 


scuttled  away  to  escape  our  skirmishers,  and  we  did 
not  see  him  again.  The  next  moment,  and  before  the 
other  divisions  could  come  up,  we  saw  many  white 
uniforms  on  the  ridge,  and  I  was  certain  then  that  the 
French  army  was  coming  at  last  to  take  breakfast  with 
us.  Nor  was  I  wrong,  for  soon  Montcalm  came  in 
tumult,  in  haste,  and  in  disorder  as  if  surprised,  as 
in  truth  he  and  his  men  were. 

In  our  rear  we  heard  the  fire  of  the  skirmishers,  but 
in  front  we  made  no  movement,  content  to  hold  for 
the  present  the  ground  we  occupied  and  see  what  M. 
le  Marquis  intended  to  do  abolit  it.  But  we  did  not 
remain  quiet.  While  the  French  were  gathering  on  the 
ridge  and  making  their  preparations,  the  Highlanders 
were  waving  their  tartans  and  playing  their  strange., 
fearful  music  on  the  bagpipes.  I  do  not  think  there 
is  much  music  in  it,  but  it  goes  well  with  the  firing  of 
guns  and  is  suited  to  the  expression  of  defiance.  Cer- 
tainly it  inspired  us,  and  our  confidence  grew. 

Presently  we  had  more  than  noise  and  the  sight 
of  white  French  uniforms.  The  bullets  began  to  knock 
up  dust,  and  then  to  smash  through  redcoats  and  draw 
redder  blood.  One  man  fell  and  then  another  and  an- 
other, and  thus  the  roll  continued,  but  we  had  to  stand 
there,  a  huge  red  target  for  the  sharpshooters,  and  no 
man  knew  that  he  would  not  be  next.  The  fierce  spat- 
ter of  the  rifle  fire  seemed  to  ring  us  around.  White 
pufTs  of  smoke  rose  from  a  field  of  yellow  corn  where 
the  Canadian  and  Indian  sharpshooters  lay.  I  fell  to 
counting  those  pufifs,  but  soon  they  grew  too  numer- 
ous for  me  and  I  gave  it  up.  Then  three  cannon 
opened  on  us  and  made  a  great  noise,  though  their 
sting  was  not  any  worse  than  that  of  the  rifles.  The 
sharpshooters  in  the  cornfield  were  re-enforced  by 
others,  and  they  lay  behind  every  bush  or  hillock  or 
stone  that  would  give  a  man's  body  shelter.    The  army 


i 


1%.'  „      r 


310  A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 

V 

was  bleeding  fast,  and  it  was  no  wonder  it  writhed 
about  a  little  and  wanted  to  bite  back. 

This  lasted  a  long  time — very  long  it  must  have 
seemed  to  some — and  we  had  no  choice  but  to  endure 
it  while  we  waited  for  M.  Montcalm  to  give  us  open 
battle.  Sometimes  light  showers  of  rain  fell,  but  they 
were  welcome  to  us,  cooling  our  faces  and  settling 
the  dust  kicked  up  by  many  men.  Two  hours  before 
noon  the  French  came  down  in  full  force  to  attack  us.* 
They  outnumbered  us,  but  when  I  saw  their  tumultuous 
array  I  knew  enough  of  war  to  feel  sure  that  we  would 
win.  Order  beats  disorder.  The  French  and  Cana- 
dian veterans  of  many  victories  were  there,  but  they 
were  not  fighting  behind  felled  trees  and  earthworks 
now. 

We  went  forward  a  little  as  if  to  welcome  them, 
and  they  stopped  quite  still.  The  French  came  on 
with  a  gay  air,  shouting  for  France,  their  King,  and 
their  general,  as  is  their  wont.  I  saw  a  man  in  brilliant 
uniform  on  a  black  horse  encouraging  them,  and  I 
recognized  Montcalm.  But  my  eyes  passed  on  to 
dwell  longer  on  another  figure  as  resplendently  clad, 
but  larger  and  more  striking.  It  was  the  Seigneur 
de  St.  Maur.  He,  too,  was  on  horseback  leading  on 
the  Frenchmen.  I  had  wished  that  he  would  not  be 
there,  but  I  knew  that  he  would  be. 

The  fire,  still  chiefly  from  the  French,  h^d  grown 
very  heavy,  and  the  blaze  oi  exploding  gunpowder  ran 
in  streaks  across  the  plain.     But  on  our  side  it  was 

*  "  Waiting  no  longer  for  more  troops,  Montcalm  led  the  French 
army  impetuously  to  the  attack.  The  ill-disciplined  companies  broke 
by  their  precipitation  and  the  unevenness  of  the  ground,  and  fired  by 
platoons  without  unity.  Their  adversaries,  especially  the  Forty-third 
and  Forty-seventh,  where  Monckton  stood,  of  which  /Aree  men  out  of 
four  were  Americans,  received  the  shock  with  calmness." — Bancroft^ 
vol.  iii,  page  244,  Little,  Brown  &  Cc's  revised  edition  of  1879. 


ON    THE    PLAINS    OF    ABRAHAM. 


3" 


only  our  skirmishers  who  were  busy.  In  the  solid 
red  ranks  the  men,  musket  in  hand,  were  waiting  for 
the  word  of  command.  It  did  not  come  until  the 
French  were  forty  paces  away,  and  then  our  line  fired, 
all  so  close  together  that  I  heard  but  one  explosion. 
It  was  a  volley  that  scorched  the  Frenchman's  whiskers 
and  took  most  of  the  gayety  out  of  him.  The  whole 
French  army  staggered,  the  men  behind  us  gave  it 
another  volley,  and  those  who  could  reload  followed  it 
up  with  a  fire  as  destructive  as  it  was  rapid.  The  smoke 
grew  so  dense  that  the  French  army  was  hid,  and  as 
if  by  preconcerted  action  our  men  stopped  firing  for 
a  minute.  The  cloud  of  smoke  rose  up  from  the  earth 
and  left  there  a  mass  of  dead  and  wounded  men  and 
horses  and  guns  and  sabers,  dropped  from  the  hands 
of  their  owners.  The  French  army,  throv/n  back,  hesi- 
tated and  lost  cohesion.  The  officers  were  shouting 
and  cursing  and  trying  to  bring  the  men  up  to  the 
charge.  The  seigneur  himself  on  foot,  his  horse  slain, 
gesticulated  with  his  bare  sword. 

Every  man  in  our  army  who  had  eyes  must  have 
seen  the  opportunity,  for  by  a  common  impulse  we 
rushed  upon  the  French  in  their  disorder,  the  High- 
landers drawing  their  swords  and  yelling  in  a  manner 
only  less  fearful  than  the  shriek  of  their  bagpipes,  the 
rest  of  us  cheering,  some  firing,  and  others  presenting 
the  bayonet. 

We  struck  the  French  and  in  their  disorder  they 
were  not  fit  to  withstand  such  a  red  avalanche.  Their 
ill-formed  lines  were  smashed  in,  and  on  we  went, 
over  the  wounded  and  the  dead,  sweeping  everything 
in  a  wild  rout  before  us.  Montcalm,  still  on  horseback, 
was  carried  in  the  blood-stainecj  mob.  I  saw  the  sei- 
gneur brandishing  his  sword  as  if  he  had  no  other  busi- 
ness in  life,  and  tears  were  running  down  his  face. 
Then  I  lost  sight  of  him. 


312 


A   SOLDIER    OF    MANHATTAN. 


We  pressed  on  after  this  army,  turned  rabble, 
though  the  sharpshooters  in  the  cornfield  and  the 
bushes  still  scorched  our  flanks.  I  heard  a  cry  that 
the  general  was  killed,  and  I  saw  two  officers  carrying 
him  away  in  their  arms.  At  another  time  it  might 
have  stopped  us,  but  not  then;  the  men  saw  their  flee- 
ing enemy,  and  we  were  in  the  flush  of  triumph.  We 
rushed  on,  an  invincible  line,  driving  the  French  be- 
fore us. 

My  head  was  clearer  than  ever  before  in  battle. 
I  looked  again  for  the  seigneur,  but  did  not  see  him. 
I  remembered  to  look  also  for  my  good  friend  Devi- 
zac,  who  I  was  sure  would  be  there,  but  I  missed  him 
too.  I  saw  Montcalm  on  his  horse  still  trying  to  rally 
his  army,  but  when  the  French  mass,  from  which 
came  many  shouts  and  a  straggling  fire,  was  pressed 
back  against  the  St.  Louis  gate,  he  reeled  in  his  saddle. 
Two  soldiers  rushed  forward,  supported  him  on  either 
side,  and  thus,  a  melancholy  procession,  they  passed 
through  the  gate. 

We  were  recalled  to  encamp  upon  the  field  of  our 
victory  and  mourn  the  gallant  men  who  had  fallen, 
and  who,  alas!  with  our  general  in  chief  at  their  head, 
were  too  numerous.  Scattered  fighting  still  went  on, 
but  the  bulk  of  us  were  busy  with  the  spade  making 
good  our  hold  upon  the  ground  we  had  won. 

Oppressed  as  I  was  wi^li  anxiety  for  my  friends 
in  Quebec,  I  was  worn  tc  j  vvith  work,  the  battle,  and 
long  waiting,  and  when  night  came  I  fell  asleep  at 
the  first  opportunity,  and  never  slept  more  soundly  in 
my  life,  "^n  the  chilly  dawn  Culverhouse  pulled  me 
out  of  the  trench  which  was  my  bed  and  shook  me 
violently. 

"  Wake  up!  "  he  said.  "  You  can't  sleep  forever. 
A  friend  of  yours  and  mine,  too,  that  wild  boy,  is  here 
to  see  you." 


ON    THE    PLAINS    OF    ABRAHAM. 


313 


I  Opened  my  sleepy  eyes  and  saw  Zeb  Crane.  He 
had  been  in  and  out  of  Quebec  again,  and  he  said  that 
the  trip  was  easy  in  the  confus'  jn  prevaiUng  after  the 
battle. 

"  Will  they  come  out  and  fight  us  again?  "  I  asked, 
for  I  knew  the  French  were  yet  more  numerous  than 
the  army  that  we  had  gathered  on  the  IMains  of  Abra- 
ham. 

"  Hardly,"  said  Zeb  scornfully.  "  The  French  are 
stampeded  like  a  herd  of  deer  with  the  wolves  after 
*em.  Nearly  all  their  army  has  left  Quebec  an'  is  run- 
nin'  full  tilt  for  Montreal,  with  the  governor  himself 
leadin'  'em." 

This  was  great  news,  and  to  my  mind  insured  the 
fall  of  Quebec,  which,  in  truth,  turned  out  to  be  a 
fact. 

"  Has  the  Seigneur  de  St.  Maur  gone  too,"  I  asked, 
"  or  did  he  fall  in  the  battle?  " 

"  Neither,"  replied  Zeb.  "  He  wasn't  hurt,  and  he's 
stayed  with  a  few  French  to  help  hold  the  town  against 
us  if  they  can." 

Then  he  added  that  Montcalm  was  dying  of  his 
wound,  and  the  news  came  to  us  soon  that  he  was 
dead.  It  is  now  an  old  tale  to  all  the  world  how  the 
two  great  commanders  fell  in  this  decisive  battle,  the 
one  in  victory  and  the  other  in  defeat. 

I  mourned  them  both. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


! 


THE   WILL   OF   GOD. 

Montcalm  slain  and  nearly  all  their  army  fled,  the 
governor  at  its  head,  the  French  had  little  heart  to 
make  further  defense  of  Quebec.  We  waited  a  few 
days  to  see  what  they  would  do,  meanwhile  strengthen- 
ing our  positions  and  bringing  more  and  heavier  artil- 
lery to  batter  down  the  walls  if  the  job  were  forced 
upon  us.  We  heard  that  there  was  great  d'squiet  with- 
in the  town,  that  a  few  veterans,  abandoned  though 
they  were  by  their  comrades,  wished  to  fight  it  out  to 
the  last  and  perish  under  the  ruins  of  the  city.  But 
the  majority  who  were  not  of  quite  such  Spartan  mold 
prevailed,  and  in  a  few  days  they  came  out  to  us  with 
a  white  flag.  Devizac  was  one  of  those  who  came,  and 
I  was  rejoiced  to  find  him  unwounded,  though  he  was 
mightily  cast  down  over  the  death  of  his  commander 
and  the  great  fall  of  the  French, 

"  I  have  no  spirit  for  the  fighting,"  he  said  to  me, 
"  now  that  our  cause  in  America  is  lost." 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,  Devizac,"  I  said.  "  It  is  not 
your  fault  nor  that  of  any  Frenchman  here.  *  You  will 
yet  be  winning  laurels  on  European  fields." 

As  in  truth  he  did. 

Then  I  came  to  the  question  which  was  nearest 
to  my  heart. 

"  The  Seigneur  de  St.  Maur  and  his  daughter, 
Devizac?"  I  asked.    "What  has  become  of  them?" 

3H 


THE    WILL    OF    GOD. 


315 


"  They  are  at  the  chatemC  he  said.  "  The  seigneur 
wept  at  the  death  of  Montcalm,  cursed  at  the  flight  of 
the  governor,  and  is  now  preparing  himself  as  best  he 
can  to  receive  the  conquerors.  I  suggest  that  you  go 
to  the  chateau  and  receive  their  surrender." 

The  suggestion  seemed  good. 

When  the  city  was  given  up  to  us  I  went  in  at  the 
St.  Louis  gate,  through  which  they  had  taken  the 
dying  Montcalm.  The  Canadians  bestowed  few  wel- 
come glances  upon  us,  though  I  heard  that  there  were 
many  who  were  glad  the  war  bade  fair  now  to  end, 
even  at  such  a  cost,  for  it  was  draining  their  life  blood 
away.  Everybody  knows  how  scanty  they  were  in 
numbers  as  compared  with  us. 

I  went  directly  to  the  Chateau  de  St.  Maur,  which 
looked  as  quiet  as  a  church.  I  pushed  open  the  doors 
unbidden  and  entered. 

In  the  center  of  the  hall  stood  the  seigneur,  a 
figure  of  great  dignity.  He  was  clothed  in  the  full 
military  uniform,  and  held  his  sword  in  his  hand. 
All  his  medals  and  decorations  were  upon  his 
breast.  As  I  approached  he  extended  the  weapon 
to  me. 

"  Receive  my  sword,  monsieur,"  he  said.  "  The 
omen  did  not  fail.  When  you  beat  me  at  the  sword 
play,  Canada  was  lost;  what  is,  is;  and  we  will  even 
accept  fate  like  brave  men." 

"  And  Father  Michel?  "  I  asked. 
I        "  He  is  in  his  room,  praying  for  the  long  life  and 
happiness  of  his  liege,  the  British  King." 

"  And  Mile.  Louise,  your  daughter?  " 

"  She  is  in  her  room,  praying  for  the  souls  of  the 
slain." 

I  found  her  a  little  later,  and  the  lilies  of  Fr-r.c^ 
were  still  on  her  shoulder.  But  there  was  a  flush  upon 
her  cheek  which  was  not  all  of  sorrow. 


21 


w 


316 


A   SOLDIER   OF   MANHATTAN. 


"  Louise,"  I  said,  taking  her  hands.  "  The  France 
of  the  New  World  is  at  an  end.  You  are  my  captive, 
and  for  life." 

She  looked  at  me,  her  eyes  shining,  and  said: 

"  If  it  be  the  will  of  God." 

It  was  the  will  of  God. 


m- 


THE  END. 


The  France 
my  captive, 

id  said: 


